


Reunited

by janezy



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, At least through 4.9, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-12-07 01:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18228059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janezy/pseuds/janezy
Summary: Eliot wanted a reunion with Quentin, but this was *not* what he had in mind.____NOW COMPLETE -- Written during the airing of season 4, so involves a lot of mid-season speculation which ended up diverging wildly from that craptastic ending, though it is mostly canon-compliant through 4.8/4.9.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. This work is un-beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. Feel free to point out anything egregious. If there is something I should have tagged that I forgot, let me know that, too.
> 
> This original work is in no way meant to be an infringement on the copyrights of the show or the books and no attempt for profit is being made. Please don't sue me. I'm poor.
> 
> Please do not archive anywhere without my permission.

Eliot Waugh had had a busy few weeks.  Well, it was difficult to keep track of time here, but he thought it might be weeks.  Between searching for his door and trying to suss out the Monster's secrets, not to mention trying to educate Charlton on the proper use of the word "fuck," he was exhausted.  He collapsed on one of the couches in the cottage, looking over at Charlton, still healing his stomach wound on another couch.  
  
"Well," Eliot drawled, motioning with the drink in his hands, "it's in Penny's hands now.  I hope he doesn't fuck it up too badly."  
  
Charlton moaned slightly as he readjusted himself.  "He better fucking not," he said.  
  
Eliot smiled at him.  "Look at baby, all grown up.  You're getting really good at that."  
  
"Whatever," Charlton said snarkily.  "I just want out of here."  
  
Eliot's smile deepened.  "And the sarcasm, too.  I love having my own little clone.  We really will have to do something about your look when we get you into a new body, though."  
  
"I don't want a new body," he said with a small pout.  "Why did you have to go and kill the first one?"  
  
"I thought I was doing the right thing at the time," Eliot defended.  "What a shitshow."  
  
Suddenly, there was a wave of something unidentifiable that went through the room and they both sat bolt upright.  It was like a powerful burst of air, but not.  The colors all seemed to change.  Everything was somehow dimmer.  
  
"What was that?!" Eliot asked.  "It was like a magic bomb went off outside."  
  
Charlton looked scared.  "It wasn't a bomb.  That was what happens when the Monster takes a new body.  At least, that's exactly what happened when it took Ora, and then you.  We've got to get out of here.  It's not a safe place anymore."  
  
Eliot's eyes widened.  "What the fuck?!  What are you talking about?  What new body?"  
  
Charlton groaned heavily as he lifted himself up from the couch, holding his stomach.  "Move!" he exclaimed.  "The other monsters could be here any minute!"  He started heading for the door.  
  
Eliot scrambled up to follow.  "But why would this place even still be here, then?  If this is a new body?"  
  
"It must be a place you and whomever the Monster is possessing now share in common."  
  
Eliot's mind was reeling.  That was a very short list: people who have memories of the Physical Kids' cottage.  And even shorter was the list of people who had been here that he wouldn't care about being possessed.  Part of him hoped desperately that he was now riding shotgun in Todd's brain, but a larger part of him knew better.  
  
"Let's go," Charlton insisted, dragging Eliot through the door and into the commons of Brakebills.  All around him, Eliot could see students walking, singly and in pairs, soaking in the sunshine.  Beneath a tree in the distance, was Quentin, reading.  Penny was crossing over to him and beginning to yell.  There was an ominous screeching sound.  
  
Eliot closed his eyes and tried to bring up some memories to protect them.  Charlton punched him in the arm.  "That won't work anymore," Charlton said hurriedly, continuing to drag Eliot across the lawn.  "Only the consciousness belonging to the possessed body has any measure of control.  We have to find whoever it is.  Find **their** happy place."  
  
Eliot stumbled, following Charlton.  "And how do we do that?"  
  
"I'm not really sure," Charlton said, mouth drawing into a frown.  "I sort of just stumbled around until I found Ora and you before.  But, if we can at least find some more happy memories, the monsters generally leave us alone for a while in those.  That's why I camped out in your Lost memories so long.  So, who do you think we're in?"  
  
Eliot hesitated to voice any guesses, not because he didn't have any, but because he simply couldn't stomach the thought.  "Let's just go that way," he said, airily pointing in a random direction.    
  
As the two crossed the lawn, the scene shifted and they found themselves in the living room of a New York brownstone.  Eliot looked around.  This was definitely not anything recent.  Oprah was blaring on the television and a man he didn't recognize was sleeping on the couch.  He heard giggles coming from underneath a table and ducked down to investigate.  
  
Two children, a boy and a girl, were laying down on their backs, looking up at the underside of the table and talking closely to each other.  
  
"What are you doing?" Eliot asked them, but they didn't look up.  Eliot ducked down further and saw an elaborate map painted on the underside of the table.  It was then that he noticed the Fillory and Further books piled on the floor.  He looked more closely at the boy's face and felt a pang.  The boy's nose, his hair, his eyes.  It was like looking at Teddy when he was that age.  Only not.  He had been afraid already, but his heart started to beat even faster.  
  
"They can't hear you," Charlton said, startling Eliot.  "The possessed consciousness needs to be present, otherwise it's like watching a movie."  
  
"You have **got** to stop calling it a 'possessed consciousness'!" snapped Eliot, standing and turning to face Charlton.  "It's a fucking person!  A person I . . ."  Eliot trailed off.  There were so many ways to finish that sentence.  Know.  Need.  Love.  "Care about," he said more quietly.  
  
"Oh," said Charlton.  "So you **do** know who we're in.  Who is it?  Will this be a happy memory?"  
  
"I'm not positive," said Eliot gesturing to the boy, "but I think it's Quentin."  
  
The giggling got louder as the children crawled out from under the table.  "C'mon, Julia," the boy said, running toward the kitchen.  "Let's see if my dad left us any of the cookies."  
  
"Wait up, Q!" the young Julia said, following.  
  
Eliot smiled a bit sadly to see how like Teddy this boy was.  Or, he supposed, it was that Teddy was like this boy.  But as his brain replayed the conversation, Eliot's heart soared with hope.  "Julia," he said out loud.  "It could be Julia, too.  She's been to Brakebills and the cottage."  
  
"But what about that thing by the tree with Quentin and the tall one?" Charlton asked.  "Was she there for that?"  
  
Eliot's smile fell immediately.  "No," he said, wheels turning in his brain.  If this was Q, he wasn't safe.  Eliot needed to find him.  Now.  "Let's go!" he said, dragging Charlton to the door.  
  
"Is this not a happy memory?" asked Charlton, digging in his heels a bit.  "It seems fine.  We could camp out here for a while.  Watch this interesting lady," he said, gesturing to the television.  
  
"Absolutely not," said Eliot.  "If that asshole has Q, I have to go protect him."  
  
"Um, I get that you have some unresolved issues with the dude," said Charlton, "but, he's fine.  We're the ones in danger.  As long as he stays in his happy place, nothing will hurt him."  
  
"'The dude?'" Eliot mimicked disdainfully.  "Where did you even?  You know what?  Nevermind.  I'm going."  He started for the door again.  
  
"Wait!" said Charlton, a hint of desperation in his voice.  "We need to stick together.  If we get separated, who knows if we'll be able to find one another again."  
  
"Then you need to get your ass in gear," Eliot said, straightening himself regally and walking off purposefully.  "We have a quest."


	2. Chapter 2

Quentin lay in bed, feeling the familiar arms of his lover wrapped tightly around his midsection. He opened his eyes enough to confirm that it was indeed morning, then closed them little tighter and groaned lightly.

"Why'd you let me drink so much, El?" he asked, no real fire behind the question.

Eliot tightened his arms and snuggled up a bit closer behind Quentin. "Because you are a real horndog when you drink," he said, laughing easily. "And it's not every night we have a Teddy-free house. We have to take advantage. Speaking of," he continued, kissing up the column of Quentin's neck, "he's not due back until after noon."

Quentin bent his head to give Eliot more to kiss and groaned again -- this time for a completely different reason. "I don't need to drink to be ready to go. For your future reference."

"Noted," Eliot said dryly, kissing up to Quentin's earlobe and sucking it gently between his teeth, but Quentin could tell that Eliot didn't believe him.

Quentin turned unto his back and looked adoringly up at Eliot, bringing a hand up to his cheek. He stared for a while, willing Eliot to hear the things he wasn't saying. He was ready for Eliot whenever. Because he was very into Eliot's . . . everything. Everytime Quentin tried to tell him so, though, Eliot rolled his eyes or changed the subject or made some self-depricating comment. It was super annoying, but such was life with Eliot Waugh. So instead, Quentin tried to tell him with his eyes. And then he pulled Eliot down to him and tried to tell him with his lips. And then he pulled Eliot between his legs and tried to tell him in other ways.

In the afterglow, Quentin noticed that a light rain had started falling outside. "Looks like we get the morning off," he said to Eliot. "That hasn't happened in a while. What should we do? I can cook us up some breakfast."

Eliot scrunched up his nose. "Isn't the idea to enjoy the time off? As opposed to recuperating from food poisoning? **I'll** do the cooking. I don't want to eat any more of that burnt mess you call food." He planted a light kiss on Quentin's cheek, then gracefully got out of bed and wrapped himself in his robe, walking toward the side of the room that included the fireplace and stoking the fire inside.

"Harsh," Quentin said with a smile, following behind and starting to pull food and cooking tools from the cabinets. "Give a guy food poisoning one time, and he never lets you forget it. And I don't think that was even my fault. The eggs were just not right. How was I supposed to know?"

Eliot fixed him with a glare, the harshness of which was belied by the slight smirk he couldn't quite hide. "Whatever you say, dear," he intoned sarcastically, as if exhibiting the patience of a saint in this conversation which had clearly happened dozens of times. He took a knife from Quentin's hand and started cutting up some bread.

The two of them moved around each other in a practiced way, always aware of the other, placing gentle hands on shoulders, backs. After a light breakfast was prepared and consumed, they sat up in the bed, shoulder to shoulder, and got out the journal to make a plan for the mosaic for the afternoon. Or, maybe for tomorrow, should the weather not improve. 

They found themselves drifting more and more into each other's space until, journal forgotten, they were kissing again.

The door slammed open and Teddy rushed in, dripping water all over the floor. He looked over at his parents, who had quickly readjusted their clothes and sat up upon his entrance. "Gross," was all he had to say, with all the disdain a twelve-year-old could muster. "It's too wet for the mosaic today. Can we play cards?"

Quentin just shrugged at Eliot, who was doing an even worse job hiding his smirk than he had at breakfast. "Softie," Eliot said, as he bent over to get the cards out from the drawer in the bedstand. The three of them played cards for hours, laughing and talking about Teddy's sleepover with the shoemaker's boys in the village. As the night folded down around them, they all found themselves back in bed -- Teddy on his pallet near the fireplace and Quentin and Eliot wrapped around each other in their small bed.

***

Quentin lay in bed, feeling the familiar arms of his lover wrapped tightly around him. He opened his eyes enough to confirm that it was indeed morning, then closed them little tighter and groaned lightly.

"Why'd you let me drink so much, El?" he asked, no real fire behind the question.

Eliot tightened his arms and snuggled up a bit closer behind Quentin. "Because you are a real horndog when you drink," he said, laughing easily. "And it's not every night we have a Teddy-free house. We have to take advantage. Speaking of," he continued, kissing up the column of Quentin's neck, "he's not due back until after noon."

There came a sharp and insistent knocking on the door. "Or, maybe he's home early," said Eliot, rising to put on his robe. The knock repeated itself. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he said, pulling open the door and stopping with a very blank look on his face.

"Who is it," asked Quentin, coming up behind his lover and looking into the face of . . . his lover. "El?" he intoned slowly, looking between them. "What's going on?"

"Ain't nobody got time for this," a blond man said, towing the second Eliot through the door and shutting it behind him. 

Quentin took them in. This new Eliot seemed younger than he should be. That wasn't right. He was younger than the Eliot he'd been living with for close to fifteen years. But he certainly looked like Eliot. Was he from them past? Or a different timeline? Of course, magic could do lots of things. This could be not Eliot at all.

Not-Eliot was looking around the small cabin, opening and closing his mouth as he tried, and failed, to explain who he was multiple times. Eventually, he just gestured to the blond man, then pointed at Quentin, saying "Charlton, Quentin. Quentin, Charlton."

"I know who he is," the man, Charlton, said exasperatedly. "Get on with it."

"How do you know who he is," intoned Quentin's Eliot, barely masking his hostility. Quentin noticed he seemed to have produced a knife from somewhere as well.

That didn't escape Charlton's notice, either. "Whoa," he said, raising his empty hands in the air. "No one needs a knife."

"I'll be the judge of that," said the older Eliot. "Explain," he gestured between his doppleganger and Charlton with the knife. "Before I get stabby."

"Eliot," Charlton said with a hint of desperation to the Eliot he'd brought inside, "This is where you talk."

"I'm not," he started, then looked at Charlton. "I mean, I really just focused on getting here. I'm not so much sure I know what to say."

"Anything would be good," Charlton said, raising his hands up higher and squeaking slightly as the other Eliot got closer to him with his knife.

"Charlton," Quentin said, making his name sound like a question. "Maybe you can do it." 

"Yes, Charlton," the knife-wielding Eliot agreed, making a stabby motion. "You can do it."

"This isn't real," the younger Eliot burst out, talking to Quentin. "I mean, I'm real and you're real and Charlton is . . ." Eliot tipped his head. "Real-ish. But this other me. This cabin. It's memories. You can control it."

"Not real?" said the older Eliot, turning to his other self and putting the knife at his neck. "I'll show you not real."

"El!" Quentin said sharply. "This is not a knife-can-fix-it situation. Calm down."

The older Eliot deflated a bit and brought his knife down to his waist. He stepped back to stand just in front of Quentin, between him and the other two. 

The real Eliot marveled at how protective his counterpart was. Though, he supposed, he would do exactly the same. Had done, in fact. He paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "Just close your eyes," he said to Quentin, "and think about where you are. How you got here."

"We're on a quest," Quentin said. "We're getting a key. Don't you know this?"

"Yes," said Eliot, "I know this. Because it already happened. We got that key a long time ago. What happened after that?"

Quentin closed his eyes. At first, he had a hard time having any thoughts beyond this day. But he pushed through and saw backwards to Arielle, to Brakebills, to his dad, further and further. Then he pushed forward, seeing an older version of himself giving a key to Jane Chatwin, seeing himself in Castle Blackspire, seeing himself with Eliot. No, that wasn't right. It wasn't Eliot. It was . . .

Quentin gasped and opened his eyes. Everything looked the same. Except now there was only one Eliot.

"Hi," Eliot said, with a tinge of sadness, waving.

"Eliot," Quentin said, rushing forward to grab him and hug him tightly. "I'm so glad to see you."

"Not quite what I had in mind," Eliot said, hugging him back and kissing his head. "What happened?"

Quentin took a step back. His eyes had a definite shine to them that hadn't been there a few minutes ago. "A lot," he said.


	3. Chapter 3

Charlton collapsed dramatically on the bed and let out a heavy sigh. "Thank the gods that's over," he said.

Both Eliot and Quentin looked over at him skeptically. He rolled his eyes. "I mean, the immediate danger, obviously. There's still . . . things to figure out. That's not really my department, though."

"Super helpful," Eliot intoned. "Thanks. Seriously, though," he continued, shifting his focus to Quentin, "what's the last thing you remember?"

Quentin creased his brow and looked to the ceiling. "Umm. It's a little fuzzy. We'd been researching a way to get the Monster out of you, and we were getting really close, thanks to that information you were able to give Penny. But I think we screwed up somehow and it figured out what we were doing."

"Am I dead?" Eliot blanched, the thought just now occuring to him. He'd been so focused on Quentin that he kind of forgot that the Monster inhabiting a new body left the state of his own very much in question.

Quentin just shrugged, the sheen returning to his eyes. "I mean, you're here, so no. Not exactly. But I can't really speak to the what's happening to your body. . . out there. I think we have to operate on the assumption that Julia and Margo and everyone are working on it and we'll get you either back into your body or into a facsimile, like with the living clay. Now that Margo knows you're alive, there's no power that can stop her trying to fix you."

Eliot smiled at that. Margo **would** do just about anything for him, if she knew he was alive. "They might not know that I'm still in here, though. If my body is dead, they probably assumed they missed their chance. We've got to find your door, so you can tell them."

"My door?" Quentin said curiously.

"When I broke through to you, it's because I found a door that let me take control back of my body for just a few seconds. According to Charlton, they're located in disturbing memories. So we have to go back through those for you and look for it." Eliot noticed Quentin was turning a bit pale and collapsing into himself, but decided to soldier on. "Which is super fun, by the way. I feel like I had a year of therapy in just a few weeks."

Quentin turned even paler. "We. Like, you'll be with me? While we plumb the depths of every horrible memory I have?"

"Shameful," Charlton piped up from the bed. "It should be something you're ashamed of. It won't be just any bad thing that happened to you."

Eliot rolled his eyes. "Again. Sooo helpful," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "I get that it won't be fun for me to be there," he continued to Quentin, dropping a hand onto his shoulder, "but we don't really have a choice. Anytime we leave this room, there are things trying to get us. Like, the spirits of all the horrific things that the Monster was locked up with and possessed before us. They can kill you, and I'll be damned if I'll let you wander around out there without backup. Speaking of, you can bring up memory versions of anyone you want to try to fight them off."

"If they can kill me, they can kill you, too. Maybe you should just stay here," Quentin said.

"I'm staying, if that helps," Charlton said, picking a worn journal off the nightstand and paging through it.

"It doesn't," Quentin and Eliot said to him in unison, before turning back to each other.

"No dice, Coldwater," Eliot said, bringing his hand up to comb through Quentin's hair. "You're stuck with me."

"Don't manage me, El," Quentin said, backing up a few steps and crossing his arms defensively. "It's just one fucking emergency to the next. Can we fucking just. . . Just stop for one minute?" Quentin pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut tightly. "Just. I thought you were dead," he said, looking up at Eliot, the tears actually close to brimming over this time. "And then I knew you weren't, but I had to watch that thing parading around in your body, killing you. And now you want to just throw yourself into danger again."

"Aww, Q," Eliot said, reaching out. "I'm okay."

Quentin pushed his hand away. "Don't. This. This is not 'okay.' This is so far from okay!" he said, his voice verging on hysteria.

Eliot wanted to just pull Quentin into his arms, but he supposed he didn't have that right. He'd had his big revelation. He knew that he wanted Quentin. At least to give it a shot. But as far as Quentin knew, they were never going to happen. And yet -- Quentin seemed awfully upset for someone who he was just friends with. And it was just starting to occur to Eliot where they were. That **this** was Quentin's happy place.

"Q," Eliot said softly, grasping Quentin's hand and pulling him over to the table. "Come here. Sit down." He got Quentin into a chair, then pulled up another right across from them, so their knees were touching. Quentin brushed a few of the tears that had fallen away, trying -- and failing -- to be stealthy about it.

"I owe you an apology," Eliot said, and Quentin's face registered surprise. He started to respond and Eliot just continued. "I shouldn't have just killed the Monster in the castle like that. We should have worked together to decide on a different plan. But when I realized what **your** plan was . . . I couldn't live with the idea of you stuck in that castle, alone, forever. It was. . . I wanted you to. . . I just wanted you," Eliot finished lamely, shrugging.

"But you said -- " Quentin started.

"-- I was being stupid," Eliot interrupted. Quentin's eyes took on a hopeful quality. Eliot wanted to spend the rest of his life looking at those eyes. Those beautiful eyes. "I was scared. And as may already be readily apparent to you," he continued, straightening. "I don't always deal well with . . .feelings" Eliot made a face and moved his mouth as if the mere word was distasteful to him.

"So you do want to?" Quentin asked.

"I . . . Yeah," he said, throwing up his hands. "Though we might want to talk about what that actually means for us in the real world, assuming we get there again."

Quentin made a quizzical face. "And I'll be enough for you?"

Eliot rolled his eyes. "I think you've got us mixed up, Q."

"No," Quentin insisted, a bit annoyed. "I never said you weren't enough for me. You were the one pushing me to every available woman that passed within 100 yards. And you never listened when I said I was satisfied. Did I seem like I wasn't satisfied? You're the one who had all the experience. Men. Women. Orgies, even. I mean, god, you had to go really vanilla for me."

"Psch," Eliot said, "That was just sex. We had something different."

Quentin's eyes widened and he nodded, waiting for Eliot to get it. Eliot waited for Quentin to say something. Did he not believe it was just sex? Eliot really didn't care what had come before. He had spent a lot of time proving that you **could** take Indiana out of the boy. He didn't need their heteronormative, monogamous, one-true-love bullshit. Until, he found one day, quite by accident, that he really did. Sex was sex and Q was Q.

"Ohhhh," he said, as it finally clicked. "Are you saying we had something different? Like how you're not gay, but you're gay for me?"

"Of all the . . . " Quentin started, exasperated. "I'm not **straight**! How many fucking times . . . I had never actually done anything with a guy before, true. But I had barely done anything with women, either. It's not like I hadn't thought about it. Like, a lot. A lot, a lot. I'm not gay either. There is this other thing. I think you've heard of it -- since you fucking are, too, given the number of times you've told me you screwed Margo. **We** are bisexual. Well, I am. You may be more pan. But you're missing the point. If this is ever going to work, you have to listen when I tell you that I'm a one-person-forever kind of a guy, and you're that person."

"No more Alice?" Eliot asked.

"Never again," Quentin said. "I did think for a while that she was my person, but we just don't work. We never made it past a couple months at a time. You and I had 50 fucking years, El."

"So, it's you and me against the world?" Eliot asked, trying for flippant and failing so massively that Quentin couldn't help but smile.

"You and me, baby," Quentin agreed, and launched himself into Eliot's lap, kissing him soundly.

Eliot was surprised, but quickly got with the program, bringing his hands up to Quentin's hips to hold him in place. They made out for several minutes before registering a loud and annoyed throat clearing noise and remembering that Charlton was still in the room. They looked over to see him covering his eyes with his hands.

"Very happy for you crazy kids," Charlton said, "but can you not do that while I'm right here?"

"You know where the door is," Eliot said, motioning in that direction imperiously.

Quentin laughed, touching his forehead to Eliot's. He smiled as if he just couldn't help himself.

Eliot marveled up at him. He'd done that. He'd put that smile on Quentin's face.

"So," Quentin started. "Every traumatic memory I have."

"Yup," Eliot agreed. "Try thinking up a chalkboard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I waffled over whether to put their big conversation and here or delay until later in the story, but it turns out I have *no* patience and just really want them to get together immediately, if not sooner. I hope it doesn't come off too trite. I guess the angst will have to come from somewhere else.


	4. Chapter 4

Quentin and Julia had been researching non-stop for weeks. Quentin couldn't remember the last time he'd slept for more than a couple hours at a time. Or ate something that someone hadn't put directly in front of him. Or showered. Gods he was ripe. But, he had to just keep going. He had to use every moment the Monster wasn't around trying to figure out how to kill it. And every moment it was around trying to convince it they were best friends. And keep it from killing Eliot. 

Julia helped. Of course she did. And Penny. Even Alice. Margo was off doing her own research in Fillory. Kady was . . . Quentin wasn't entirely sure what Kady was doing. But people were helping. It just didn't seem to be enough. And everyone else seemed to think killing the Monster or trapping it somewhere would be good enough. But he wasn't going to be satisfied with any solution that also killed Eliot. There had to be a way.

"How about this?" Julia asked, passing him a book. The two of them were in the living room, piles of books everywhere. "Could this be Enyalius?"

Quentin looked the page over. "I don't know, Jules. Most of this stuff is about Ares. They've become so conflated over time. Besides, helping that thing find Enyalius shouldn't be that high on our list of priorities. He just needs to **think** we're helping. I think we've almost got a plan for an exorcism. We just need a couple of pieces from Margo."

Suddenly, Eliot was in the room. No, Quentin thought, stop it. You know that's not him. In that ridiculous sweater and "I Don't Do Mornings" cat shirt. 

"I have decided you are taking too long," the Monster said, in that dull way of his. Quentin tried to school his face into one not missing even the tone of his friend's voice. He missed Eliot so much, but the Monster had to believe that Quentin wanted only him.

"No, see," said Julia, using her arms to show the expanse of books around them. "Very busy. Here," she said, grabbing the book from Quentin's hand and giving it to the Monster. "We even found a lead on Enyalius for you."

The Monster gave a cursury look at the page. "Reading is boring. And this is all nonsense about Ares anyway. It's like you don't care at all, Hoolia."

"Of course we care," she said, as if talking to a child. Quentin supposed that's what the Monster was in a lot of ways.

"I grow tired of everything in this body. And I think Quentin here is the only one who cares what happens to it." The Monster's eyes lit up. "That's it. Quentin is working the hardest because he cares the most about this meat suit. If I want you to care, I need a meat suit you care about."

"What are you talking -- " Julia started, but suddenly, Eliot's body crumpled to the ground, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. "What the -- " Julia jumped up to run to Eliot's body, akimbo on the floor. "Quentin," she started, turning to her friend, and then saw an otherworldly glow to his eyes.

"I'm giving you one week, Hoolia," said the Monster using Quentin's body. "I had better see some progress, or else I'm going to do things to this body that would make naked ice cave climbing seem like a valid life choice." Then he just disappeared.

"Fuck," Julia said quietly. "FUUUUCK!!" she yelled, pounding her fists on the carpet. "Penny! Penny! Get in here!"

Penny ran down the stairs, stopping short at the sight of Eliot on the floor. "Whoa. He finally overdose?"

"No," Julia said, "he took Q." 

"What?" Penny said. "Who took Quentin?"

"The Monster," Julia said. "He left Eliot's body and took Q's and now he's off who fucking knows where doing who knows what with my best friend."

Julia reached down and felt Eliot's neck. "He's still got a pulse." She tried shaking him. "Eliot. Eliot! Are you in there?" She lifted the lid of one eye and saw a blank stare. "We've got to get him to the infirmary at Brakebills."

"Sure. Yeah," Penny said, putting a hand on each of their shoulders and blinking them away. They arrived in the middle of an open area of the infirmary where the staff hurried to meet them and got Eliot onto a rolling bed. Penny started telling them in broad strokes what he knew about their patient's condition and followed as the doctors wheeled Eliot off to a different room.

In another corner of the room, Kady and Alice were huddled over a table, poking at a worm of some kind and talking lowly to one another. They looked up and saw the commotion, coming over right away. 

"What happened?" Alice asked.

Julia made a face. "I thought you were supposed to be off fucking yourself somewhere." 

"I'm helping," Alice said primly. "Trying to, at least. What's wrong with the Monster?"

"That's not the Monster," Julia said. "Not anymore at least. He left Eliot's body and took Q's."

"Q?," Alice said, blanching. "How can I help?"

"Like I said -- go fuck yourself," Julia said. "I wouldn't trust you to help if my life depended on it, you back-stabbing asshole."

"But it's not your life, is it," Alice said angrily, crossing her arms. "It's Q's. You know I'm going to help whether you want me to or not, so just tell me what's going on."

Julia looked to Kady, who shrugged. "She will," Kady said.

"Argh," Julia said. "Fine. The Monster thought it would be motivational, I guess. That's all I know. Everything is the same, except for now Q's gone."

"And Eliot's a vegetable," Penny said, walking up and joining them. "They're going to run some tests. It seems like his body's alive, but his spirit is AWOL, like when I astral project."

"But where did he go?" Kady asked. "We know he was in there. You talked to him."

"Yeah, he was for sure in there," Penny agreed. "But he ain't there now. Best case, he's just floating around and will be able to find his way back on his own. Worst case, he was destroyed when the Monster left and the body just doesn't know it yet."

"Or," said Alice, "he left with the Monster."

Julia screwed up her face. "How would that work?"

"Eliot's whole self was basically inside the Monster's self, which was inside Eliot's body," Alice said.

"That's one fucked up Turducken," Penny interjected. Alice made an impatient face at him.

"Maybe when the Monster transferred his consciousness, he took Eliot's with him," Alice continued.

"So, Eliot could be inside of Quentin?" Kady asked incredulously, then immediately realized what she said and started to giggle a little. "Sorry," she said, schooling her face. "Inappropriate."

"Yes," Alice said emphatically. "That's exactly what I'm saying. I need to do some research."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of expositional filler -- and the last of the story before it gets completely jossed.
> 
> Thanks to those of you brave enough to read a WIP, and for the kudos and kind comments. Very motivational!
> 
> Next up: Q and El look for a door.


	5. Chapter 5

Quentin and Eliot stood in front of an entirely blank chalkboard. Charlton napped on the bed.

"This is really embarassing," Quentin said, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. Once in a while, he would look over at Eliot, then back to the floor. "Do I really have to tell you, like, **everything**?"

"Still trying to hold on to the mystery? After all these years?" Eliot said, trying to tease, but not quite hitting the mark. He turned and took Quentin by the shoulders, making him look at him. "It's easy. Just know that if you don't do this, we both die." Quentin's eyes bulged slightly. "See. You're very brave. You can do it."

"Easy for you to say," Quentin grumbled. "I'm pretty self-reflective. You don't go to as many group therapy sessions as I have without being able to get past it. But you didn't have to do this around anyone you cared about."

Eliot supposed that was true. "Would it help if I just told you some of mine?"

Quentin lit up. "Would you?"

Eliot groaned. He didn't want to. But, "Yes, yes I would."

He started small, with the bad haircuts and generally poor choices of sexual partners and worked his way up to the larger betrayals, such as throwing Margo in jail or beating up his best friend, just to get the other kids to stop calling him a fag for a few weeks. As he talked, Quentin started making cryptic notes on the board himself. Most of them didn't make much sense to Eliot, but he figured that it would become clear when they visited. It was really more for Q's sake to keep track, anyway. For some reason, though, he left off before telling him about the actual memory that had the door. Even though they'd talked about it somewhat, Eliot still wasn't ready to admit how ashamed he was of that moment.

They stared at the board a while, now mostly filled in. "I see a lot of J and A on there," Eliot said, a bit snarkily. "Anything you want to tell me?"

Quentin rolled his eyes. "Yes, I used to have a thing for Julia and did a lot of dumb stuff trying to hide it from her while still being her best friend. And you know damn well A is Alice. You were there for my biggest betrayal. But I did plenty to her aside from that. Though, usually, I thought I was doing the right thing and it just turned out bad in hindsight."

"Unlike her betrayals," Eliot agreed with a sneer, "which everyone knew from go were a bad idea."

"Whoa, down boy," Quentin said, smiling. "Though I do appreciate the sentiment."

"So," Eliot said, drawing out the word. "Ready to start exploring?"

"As I'll ever be, I guess," said Quentin.

"Okay -- memory battle squad time, then," Eliot said. "Try to think up a couple of versions of people who can protect us when the monsters show up."

"Who did you choose?" Quentin asked.

"Well, Margo, obviously," Eliot answered.

"Obviously," Quentin agreed. "She's terrifying almost always."

"True, but I chose her incarnation as Welters Coach. That one was particularly brutal. Then I chose Fen from when we were fighting pirates. Lady knows her way around a knife."

Quentin nodded. "Good choice. Anyone else?"

Eliot colored a bit. "You," he said, a bit awkwardly. "From when you went after Penny."

"Really?" Quentin said. "Fighting is not my strong suit. With weapons or battle magic. Wouldn't Kady have been a better choice?"

"Maybe," Eliot said, shrugging, "but I didn't really try to think of anyone else. Once they're summoned, the memories will stick around until they die. If I was going to be hanging out with anyone, it was going to be you." 

Quentin tried to hide his smile by looking at the ground. "I guess I don't have to think up a memory version of you, at least."

"No, and please don't. That was confusing enough last time."

"Okay. Let me think. We want helpful, agressive, competent. I'm definitely bringing Kady from the bank heist," Quentin said, and she appeared instantly.

"Let's get this done!" Kady said, taking a battle stance.

"I would go with Alice, since she's brilliant," Quentin started. Eliot was about to say what a horrible idea he thought that was, when Quentin continued. "But I think she'd just end up arguing with us the whole time." Eliot nodded in agreement.

"Can I bring Julia as a goddess?" Quentin asked. "I'm thinking the version able to raise a forest with a single thought." 

Julia appeared before them and nodded. "I'm happy to help you, Q," she said serenly.

"Aaaand, Penny from that same fight. You may have thought that I was more ready to fight then, but he easily took me down without really trying."

Penny appeared, already looking bored. "Whatever, Coldwater. Let's just get this over with."

"Are we good?" Quentin asked Eliot.

"I'd say so. Just think up one of these memories," Eliot said, motioning to the chalkboard. "Then we go through the door and are there. If we need to bounce, you just think of this place and run and we'll end up here."

"Any particular order? Bad to worse? Chronological?" Quentin asked.

Eliot shook his head. "Dealer's choice."

Quentin took Eliot's hand and started for the door, the three memory protectors following behind.

They started in a memory of a young Quentin, playing with a model airplane and accidentally breaking it in to a dozen pieces. Quentin stood, head bowed, while his father said, "I'm not mad, Curly Q. Just disappointed. I worked really hard on that."

No door.

They tried several different iterations of almost the same memory, where Julia tried to get Quentin to do something with her and James and Quentin lied about already having plans to avoid seeing them together. Eliot couldn't help but be jealous when he saw the open desire in Q's eyes when he was looking at Julia, but thought she was not looking at him.

No door.

They tried a couple of the times Quentin checked himself in to a mental institution. And one time his mom checked him in without his permission.

No door.

They tried a couple of times that Quentin's mom berated him for breaking something. Or not trying hard enough. Or just generally being a loser. Eliot's heart went out to him. It reminded him that he definitely didn't hold the monopoly on non-supportive parents.

No door.

"This is getting us nowhere," said Quentin, throwing his hands up. They were back in the shack.

"I think the problem is that none of that was really all that horrible, at least in the grand scheme of the shitshow that is our lives," Eliot said gently. "I know I said we would do this however you wanted, but it might be time to break out the greatest hits."

"I know, I know," Quentin said, shaking his head.

"How about this?" Eliot asked, pointing at the board. Quentin wordlessly nodded and they left.

They were in a New York alley, Quentin telling Julia that if she didn't get into Brakebills, it was probably because she just wasn't good enough. He had forgotten how brutal he'd been to her. He had been unwilling to risk angering Dean Fogg. But, more than that, he was finally in a place where he was the star, rather than following around in her shadow. He didn't want to give that up.

A horrible, shrill noise rended the air.

"That's our cue," Eliot said, grabbing Quentin's arm and pulling him away. "Start thinking of your happy place."

Seconds later, they were there. Though Memory Penny didn't seem to make the trip back.

Charlton greeted them with a vague wave from the table, where he was playing solitaire. "How's the search going?"

"Not great, since we have hit almost a dozen memories without luck yet. And the Screechers just popped up," Eliot said to Charlton. Turning his attention to Quentin, he continued, "So, bad news: no door. Good news: we must be getting somewhere. Those things usually only show up in the really awful stuff."

"Hooray?" said Quentin. "That was. . .not fun. I forgot what a jerk I was. Why didn't I just help her get in?"

"It was probably for the best," Memory Julia said calmly. "This was the one timeline I was not admitted. And the only where we truly bested the Beast. Everything worked out. Eventually."

"Still," Quentin said. "I know I've told you before that I'm sorry. But I really am."

"I think you paid for that mistake already," Eliot reminded him, referring to the spell Julia and Marina cast trapping him in his mind.

"I guess," Quentin said, shrugging. "So, time for another?"

Eliot noticed how Quentin was sinking into himself and thought it was not a good idea to keep pushing him right now. "How about something lighter," he said. "Why don't we show Charlton that barbeque from when you first started at Brakebills."

Quentin got a determined look on his face. "I can keep going. You don't have to baby me."

Eliot reeled him in and kissed the top of his head. "I know. But this may be a marathon rather than a sprint. Self-care is important."

Quentin turned around in his arms and hugged him tightly. "I'm glad you're here," he mumbled into Eliot's chest.

"Me, too," said Eliot, returning the hug. "Now, if I recall, I made a particularly delicious chicken that day."

"If you don't say so yourself," Quentin said, pulling back, eyes a bit wet. "Let's go."

The three of them, plus Memory Julia and Memory Kady, arrived at the barbeque and were able to interact as much as they wanted with the people there. Eliot and Quentin chose to mostly just sit and observe, though. Eliot found himself fascinated watching this slightly younger and even more awkward version of Quentin. He was clearly into Alice, but this was before they'd gotten together and Eliot had never noticed before just how much Quentin had been checking him out as well. Maybe it was just the juxtaposition of seeing this scene so soon after watching younger Q giving moony eyes to Julia, but he could swear that Quentin sometimes had the exact same look on his face while looking at him.

"Q," Eliot said, a hint of surprise in his voice, "were you actually attracted to me way back then?"

Quentin looked over at him like he was very stupid. "Well, duh. You were the most confident, sexiest, coolest guy I'd ever met and you seemed to actually like me. That had never happened before."

"But . . . Alice," Eliot replied lamely.

"We were in the same classes and kept getting thrown together. And then we were forced to study together to try to advance a year. And the stuff with her brother and the Beast. I mean, yeah, I liked her, too. But, it's really more just that she and I happened first. And that she seemed kind of, more attainable, I guess. You and Margo seemed otherworldly and totally . . . out of my league."

"So why did you wait so long at the mosaic?" Eliot asked. "We were friends then." 

"I guess I was just waiting. For you," Quentin said. "Honestly, you're the smooth operator. I thought you would make a move. But you never did. And it was getting really old. So I finally just went for it."

Eliot had so many thoughts, he couldn't figure out which to give voice to. Flippant -- of course you liked me. I knew it all along. Amazed -- we could have been together all that time. What a waste. Honest -- you were so good and pure. I thought **you** were out of **my** league.

Eventually, he decided on sappy. He grabbed Quentin's hand and kissed it, looking him straight in the eyes. "I promised a version of you once that I would try to be braver. I want you to know: I love you."

Quentin smiled. "I know that already, though it's good to hear the words."

Eliot huffed. "Some people in this situation would say 'I love you' back."

Quentin laughed at that. "Of course I love you. Idiot."

"Still," Eliot said, pulling Quentin closer, "it's good to hear the words."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes. The door will be found. Eventually. But, my characters wanted a sappy detour. Sorry, not sorry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ain't gonna lie, this chapter is painful. But, if it makes you feel any better, know that I'm generally a happy endings kind of writer.
> 
> See end notes for very spoilery warnings.

After their break, Quentin decided it was time to jump right into the hard stuff again. "I think it's time for the unfortunate sexual partners portion of our journey," he said, leading the group to an unassuming bathroom.

"Um, Q?" Eliot asked. "Why are my eyeballs being assualted by the image of Alice having sex with Professor Mayakovsky?"

Quentin reddened a bit. "Because that's not Alice," he said, pointing. "It's Emily Greenstreet." He started pointing at the man. "And that is -- "

"You!" Eliot burst in. "I'd recognize that move you just did with your tongue anywhere," he continued, eyebrows waggling. He tilted his head to get a better view.

Quentin slapped him gently on the arm. "I was kind of in a bad way. This was from when I tried to give up magic, after Alice went Niffin killing the Beast and you were trapped in Fillory. It was not my finest moment."

"Still," Eliot said, "it's not really the worst, either."

"No," Quentin agreed. "But the whole thing felt really skeevy at the time. I felt like I was using Emily."

"Seems like she was using you, too. And wasn't it her idea to begin with?"

Quentin nodded. "Yeah, so. No door. Next?"

"Lead the way," Eliot said.

They next ended up in a very familiar room. Eliot had watched himself having sex on video enough times to not be that thrown by the image. And he had visited this scence himself not long ago. It seemed different somehow now, though.

"So, the infamous threesome, of course," Quentin said. "I broke Alice's heart and was a huge asshole about it. I mean, we weren't really getting along, but I should have just been upfront with her. I think a part of me **wanted** her to find us, for her to have a reason to break up with me." Quentin looked around the room a bit. "Fuck. No door." He pulled on Eliot's arm, saying "Let's go."

"Wait a minute," said Eliot, very involved in watching the scene before them. "Your memories are so much crisper than mine."

"Well, yeah," Quentin said. "You were very drunk. I was only mildly so. Yet another reason this was bad form on my part."

"I'm just . . . look at you," Eliot marveled.

Quentin shifted uncomfortably. "What about me?" he asked.

"You are **very** focused on that blow job you're giving me," Eliot said.

"It was my first time. Doing that," Quentin said a bit defensively.

"That's not what I'm saying," Eliot said. "I mean -- you actually liked it. Even then."

"Yes," Quentin said, a bit shortly. Haven't they been over and over this? "I told you I did. Right when it happened, I was too focused on how much I'd messed everything up with Alice and sort of wanted to pretend it hadn't happened at all. But later, I told you."

"I know," said Eliot, smiling and nudging Quentin playfully. "You've said it. But a picture is worth a thousand words."

Quentin wanted to stay mad, but simply couldn't when he saw how satisfied Eliot was in that moment. Then, he knew where they had to go next. It was a sobering thought. "Okay -- this next one is going to hurt."

They were back in the shack in Fillory, but it wasn't serving as Quentin's happy place in this moment. This was a different time, years earlier. Arielle was lying in the bed, coughing. Quentin was at her bedside, holding her hand. 

Eliot couln't see himself -- or Teddy for that matter. This must have been one of the times that he'd taken Teddy for a walk to the village to try to give Quentin and Arielle some alone time, and to give Teddy a break from watching his mother be so very sick.

"Just try to breathe," Memory Quentin said, helping Arielle to sit up and rubbing circles on her back. When her fit passed, he handed her a glass of water. She took several sips and handed it back, laying back down. 

Arielle grabbed Quentin's hand tightly and fixed him with an intense stare. "You have to promise me," she said.

"I can't promise that," Memory Quentin insisted. "It's not just up to me. We will always take care of Teddy. You know that."

"What is she talking about?" Eliot asked his Quentin, creasing his brow.

Quentin was reluctant to answer, but he figured Eliot deserved the truth. "When Arielle got sick, she got obsessed with getting me to agree that you and I would be together after she died. I kept telling her that you didn't feel that way, but she insisted you did."

Eliot's mind was reeling. "She **wanted** us to be together? But, why?"

Quentin started fighting back tears. He wasn't sure if he should be watching the scene or talking to Eliot, but neither felt like something he wanted to do, so he just kept his eyes focused on the foot of the bed. He shrugged. "She said that she knew I loved you. More than her. And for a while I insisted she was wrong. But, we both knew she was right. I did love her. But probably more like how you feel about Fen. I admired her. I loved being around her. She was such an open person. Funny. A good friend. And she was the mother of my child. She just fit with us so well. But she was right. I never felt that way about her, really."

"Never?" Eliot pushed. "Not even in the beginning? I know you wanted her. I saw it every time she came around."

"Sure, I found her attractive. But I had no intention of doing anything other than looking. You and I had been sleeping together for a while and I thought maybe it was going somewhere. But you refused to ever even talk about it, even as the months drew on. And then, one day she broke up with Lunk and that was it. You pushed me to her and said, 'Why settle for a fuckbuddy when you can have something real?'. And then you went off and slept with that farmhand, what's his name. So, I thought, if that was all I was to you -- a fuckbuddy -- then I needed to move on. And she was there.

"That's what I'm ashamed of. That I basically took advantage of her. I knew I didn't love her when we started seeing each other, but figured it would come with time. And maybe it would have in a different world, where I didn't spend almost all my waking hours around you. I never cheated on her physically -- I learned my lesson on that from what happened with Alice. But, emotionally, you were always my person. Not Arielle. And we both knew it."

"Well then, why not just agree to her wish?" Eliot asked. "She wanted us to be together, and in most of the ways, we already were. Why not just make her happy?"

"Because it wasn't just about me," Quentin said, bitterness tinging his voice. "You'd made it clear you didn't feel that way about me. Multiple times. You went out of your way to let me know you were sleeping with other people. And there was that one time you said you thought you were aromantic. I just thought, it didn't matter what I wanted. And I didn't want to lie to her. She meant too much to me."

"It was . . . " Eliot started, then stopped. "I thought I was helping. I didn't want to stand in your way. It was hurting me, too. Seeing you with her. You don't know how many times I thought about moving away, letting you just finish the quest alone. But the one time I mentioned something, you looked so hurt it was as if I stabbed you. So I just left it alone." He pulled Quentin around to look at him. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"I know," Quentin said, shrugging. "But you did."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say." Eliot pleaded with his eyes for forgiveness.

Quentin reached up and cradled Eliot's face in his hand. "Say you won't do it again."

Eliot reached up to lay his hand over Quentin's and hold it to his face. "I'm a fuck up. I get in my own way. Just like you didn't want to make a promise to Arielle you didn't think you could keep, I don't want to promise you. But I'm going to try really hard. And if you think I'm not listening to you, next time just remind me of this moment."

"I guess I'll take what I can get," Quentin agreed, leaning up to kiss Eliot's lips.

When they broke apart, Eliot took another look around the room. "You were right; this sucked. Still no door, though. Do you have any other ideas?"

Quentin had one last one. He'd held it for last because he was hoping against hope that this wouldn't be necessary. That he wouldn't have to show Eliot this. But just the fact that he so wanted to keep this a secret, even from himself, should have told him from the start. He knew where they needed to go. So he nodded mutely and pulled Eliot along.

They arrived in a darkened bedroom, rather lavishly appointed, but with dirty clothes, empty dishes, and opened books strewn everywhere. Quentin was laying on his stomach on the bed the short way, legs in the air behind him, reading a thick tome. Suddenly, the Monster popped into the room, inches from Quentin's head.

"Jesus!" Memory Quentin exclaimed, sitting up and holding his hand over his heart. "You have **got** to stop doing that!"

"Apologies," the Monster said in his monotone. "I need your help." He grabbed Quentin's shoulder and they disappeared.

"Oh my god," Eliot said, mouth agape. "Tell me he isn't walking me around, looking like **that**. What is he wearing?!"

"Focus," real Quentin snapped. "That's hardly the worst of his crimes."

"Says you," Eliot quipped. "But fashion crimes like that should be punishable by death in my book. And the hair!" 

The scene shifted to some ruins in a nameless desert, and Memory Eliot and the Monster popped in there.

"Where are we?" Memory Quentin asked.

"Immaterial," the Monster replied. "Hold this," he said, handing a large and very old-looking scimitar to Quentin.

Quentin looked at it and noticed some script on the blade written in a form of ancient Arabic, but couldn't tell what it said.

"Now what?" Quentin asked.

"Cut yourself," the Monster said. "Put the blood in this bowl." He handed a small, tarnished bowl to Quentin.

"I . . . " Quentin started, then stopped. He knew that if the Monster didn't get what he wanted, he would just start breaking bones until Quentin gave in. "Can't you cut me?" he asked. "It would be easier than doing it to myself."

"No," the Monster said without emotion. "I'm not allowed to touch it. It must be freely given."

Quentin didn't think that this quite met the spirit of "freely given" since the Monster was forcing him. But magic often was tricksy that way, working based on the letter of the law, not the spirit. He vaguely wondered what the blood was even for, but figured it must have something to do with some spell the Monster was casting-- gods knew what that was. A part of him was happy he didn't know.

Quentin sighed and ran the blade quickly over the top of his left forearm, letting the blood drip into the bowl.

"Excellent," the Monster said when it was full, running his fingers along the wound and instantly healing it. 

Quentin's cut may have been healed, but he knew the Monster had done nothing to mitigate the blood loss. That, combined with the lack of sleep, was making him quite light-headed. He wasn't quite certain when he last ate, either. 

He started falling, and the Monster caught him, transporting them both back to the room from before. The Monster cleared the bed and laid Quentin on it, on top of the bedspread. He turned out the lights and then got onto the bed himself, hugging Quentin to him.

"You're so weak," the Monster said, as if making an observation, not as if he cared at all.

"Shhh," Quentin said, snuggling into his side. "Please just, quiet."

"Yes," the Monster agreed in monotone. "There, there." He patted Quentin's head perfunctorily.

Quentin continued burrowing into the Monster's side.

"Tell me you didn't," said Eliot to his Quentin. He'd been horrified throughout this entire scene, both to see the state of his own body and of Quentin's. He was shocked how quickly Quentin complied with the Monster's request for blood. But, he supposed he had no idea what Quentin had been going through out there. This was so much worse than he'd thought. But now, seeing the way Quentin had clung to the Monster's body, he worried that something even more heinous had been going on.

"I didn't," Real Quentin said quickly. "Not that at least. But this was a low point for me. I just. . . I missed you so much. And I was so tired. And scared. And tired of being scared. I wanted to not think, just for a moment. So I sort of gave in, a little. It didn't feel right. He doesn't . . . I know he's not you. He doesn't dress like you or sound like you. He doesn't even smell like you. But I just . . . for a moment, I thought, what if I never see you again? What if this is the closest I ever get? So I just let it happen. And it felt like the worst betrayal I could imagine." 

"Q!" Eliot said, directing Quentin's attention to the side of the room. "Door!"

Quentin looked like he was going to say something to Eliot, but Eliot just pushed him toward the door with a "Tell me later."

Quentin opened the door and walked through. He felt a bit funny, then opened his eyes to find himself in a completely unfamiliar room, bound and gagged. He looked down at the floor and saw he was inside a circle with a lot of runes around the outside.

"Jules," he heard Penny say, "he's up." He looked up and saw not only Penny and Julia, but the whole gang.

"It's me!" he tried to say through the gag, but nothing beyond muffled screams came out.

"It's time," Julia said, walking toward him.

Then he felt that same funny feeling and reappeared in his happy place, completely alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Quentin cuts himself at the Monster's insistence, and becomes a bit faint as a result, but is okay. Then, there is some mild Stockholm Syndrome. If that's not your bag, you can skip out when the Monster appears. Just know, that's where the door is.


	7. Chapter 7

With the Monster getting close to its goal, everyone had been working around the clock to try to figure out what to do. How could they get Quentin back, or Eliot? Was it even possible to kill the Monster? Or would they need to find some way to imprison it again? The Monster, now wearing Quentin's body, popped in and out at the most inconvenient times, each time with more dire warnings of the consequences of failure. With only a few days left, and much bickering, they'd all come to agree to a course of action. 

First of all, they'd need ambrosia to knock him out. Kady tracked down Marina and got her to reveal her source for the ambrosia she'd had before, which happened to be on an entirely different planet. Thanks to Penny, though, it was a fairly easy get. 

Much easier than anything else they needed. The team had to split into several groups to try to manage it.

Julia, Josh and Penny were on body duty. If they wanted to get the Monster out of Quentin, they needed another body to shove it into. And they certainly wanted this to happen before the Monster finished building its own body. The group had debated for a long time how they would get someone, and the relative morality of any choice. Most of the others couldn't seem to care about what may or may not happen to some random stranger, especially Margo. She wanted nothing more than the possibility of getting Eliot (and okay, also Quentin) back -- even though they still weren't certain where Eliot was or if he was even still alive. Only Josh and Julia really fought back on the idea of sticking the monster into some other person.

In the end, they decided that if they found someone brain dead that they'd be in the clear. However, such people were a lot harder to track down than they'd suspected. People who had been in long-term comas were not really healthy enough to take in the Monster, and if the new body died, the Monster would just leave immediately and take someone else they couldn't control. Similarly, many of the people who had become brain dead more recently were victims of accidents which left the body too ravaged in other ways to hold the Monster. 

They'd had a spell listening to first responder chatter and finally found a good candidate. A 35-year-old woman had stroked out while jogging in the park earlier that morning, for no apparent reason other than back luck. She'd had no emergency contact or next of kin. They fervently hoped no one would miss her. Josh had found her earlier in the day and run all the diagnostics to assure himself that there was nothing -- medical or magical -- that could be done to cure her. That done, he'd contacted Julia and Penny to transport the body to the location they were doing the spells -- Brakebills South. 

This location had been chosen by Alice and Kady. The spells they were planning required immense amounts of magic -- far more than even a stack of Deweys could supply. Not to mention, there were the continued concerns about being tracked while using Deweys. They worked with Zelda to find the best spots in the ambient magic pipeline and determined that Brakebills South was ideal. It was at the confluence of several larger pipes and it had been fairly easy for Zelda to arrange to increase the flow there enough to charge several large batteries over the course of the week. If all else failed, they would break the pipes. But they hoped it wouldn't come to that, as they didn't want to alert the Library to what was going on.

Meanwhile, Margo went on a solo quest in Fillory to obtain some mysterious weapon they could use to exorcise the Monster. Once they'd found it, though, everyone was disappointed. The axes were definitely only to be used as a last resort, since there was a very real possibility they would kill the body of whatever person was housing the Monster at the time.

Finally, their moment came. The Monster popped in to the New York apartment and Julia was able to give it a face-full of ambrosia. Quentin's body collapsed, and Penny immediately transported it and Julia to Brakebills South, where everyone else had been waiting. They got him strapped into a chair on top of a runic circle meant to keep him inside. With the Monster's powers, they couldn't hold it for long. But they were hoping it would be enough.

Earlier in the week, Dean Fogg had supplied a contact to a magician-for-hire who specialized in spritualism, Hermione. "I don't want to hear it," she'd said, the second she was introduced to the group and saw their eyes widen. "I'm 53 fucking years old. I was here first!"

When she'd been told the situation, she wasn't certain she could help. Normally, she bilked non-magicians out of their cash by allowing them to talk to their loved ones, even though she could only contact them about half the time. While she could usually make contact with people still in the Underworld, if they'd moved past that stage, they were beyond her reach. She'd also occasionally helped to exorcise houses by talking to ghosts to help them find their way. But she didn't have much experience with possession, or "living" souls on the astral plane, or whatever might be happening here. There were a lot of unknowns. But, she was happy to take their money and give it a shot.

Now, with the Monster incapacitated, Hermione stepped close to the circle and started looking at Quentin's body through several different pieces of crystal.

"Yeah, that's not just two souls," she said.

Margo gasped in relief. "So Eliot **is** still in there?"

"I don't know who specifically is in there," Hermione responded, "but I can see at least 19 separate entities."

"Nineteen?!" Julia said in surprise. "Who else -- "

"--Again," Hermione interrupted impatiently, "no clue. I'm just telling you, it's like a bunch of Russian nesting dolls in there."

"That makes sense," Alice said.

Kady screwed up her face in confusion. "It does?"

"Yes," Alice said. "The Knight Ora told us that the Monster had originally been locked up with many other creatures, but was the only one left. That it had killed the others. But what if it had possessed them first? All of their essences would be with the Monster, whoever it took next."

"So," Kady said, "Quentin, Eliot, and a horde of monsters are sharing that body?"

"And, presumably, any other poor person the Monster possessed before taking Eliot," Josh put in helpfully.

"Look, lady," Margo said to Hermione. "I don't give a crap about the rest of those things. Just Eliot. And Q. Can we separate them out?"

"Not exactly," Hermione said, continuing to look at Quentin's body through different crystals. "Like I said, they're like nesting dolls. I can't be certain, but there seem to be three main consciousnesses. Going off what you're saying, I would guess that one is this Monster, as the lead consciousness. One would be Quentin, as owner of the body. The third could be Eliot, as the one possessed last, with the rest inside of him. I think we could extract one of the consciousnesses and put it in one of these bodies," she said, pointing to the bodies of Eliot and the brain-dead woman the group had placed on cots nearby, "but I wouldn't be able to know which one it was. Everything is just too interconnected."

"Well, fuck," Margo said. "I say we just do it. It can't be any worse than this."

"Are you kidding me?" Kady said angrily. "We could end up removing Quentin from his own body and putting him in a 35-year old woman. Or freeing a bunch of monsters so horrific the gods locked them away for eternity."

"But there's a chance," Margo said. "If there's a chance in hell we can get Eliot back, I'm fucking taking it." She raised her axes in defiance, ready to take down anyone who got in her way.

"Whoa," Josh said, stepping between them. "Calm down."

"You calm down," Margo exclaimed, shaking her axe at Josh.

Alice and Hermione had been speaking to each other swiftly, in clipped voices. Alice approached the group. "Hermione thinks she can isolate the one consciousness that isn't either Q or the Monster. I say we stick whatever that is in the woman's body and sort it out there."

"If Eliot is in there, will you be able to get him back into his own body after that?" Julia asked.

Hermione shrugged. "It would be a lot easier to do if we put the whole mess into his body, since his soul will have a natural affinity for that body. But I might be able to do something."

"That doesn't sound very fucking reassuring," Margo said.

"Uh, guys?" Penny said, trying to get their attention. No one looked. "Jules!" he tried. When Julia looked over, he pointed at Quentin's body. "He's up."

They all looked over to see the Monster struggling to say something. There was a hint of panic in his eyes. Most of them were happy to see it. He should be scared. 

"It's time," Julia said, walking forward into the circle. "We don't know how long this will hold him. We have to just move forward. Hermione, put the third consciousness into Eliot's body."

"I'm going to need some help," Hermione said. 

There was some balking from the group, but Alice and Kady stepped up to do the spell with Hermione. Margo hovered over Eliot's body uncertainly, with Josh watching her a step behind. Penny kept an eye on the Monster to make sure it wasn't escaping.

The lights flickered and Eliot's body gasped and sat up, then collapsed.

"Eliot?" Margo said desperately. "Can you hear me?"

Eliot groaned and his eyes fluttered open. "What happened? Where am I?" he croaked out.

"Oh thank god!" Margo said, hugging him fiercely.

"Who are you?" he asked, and Margo sprang away immediately, fear on her face.

"Who am I?! Who are you?" she said heatedly. She stood and readied her axes.

"I'm Charlton. I am --" he started to say.

"Fuck this," Margo interrupted, and quickly ran forward to plunge the axes into Eliot's body.

"What the hell!" Josh said.

"I know Eliot's in there," Margo said. "Everyone else just needs to get the fuck out!"

"And go where?" Josh said. Eliot's body convulsed and then over a dozen streams of different colored smoke ran from his mouth.

"That's a problem for another day," Margo said, removing the axes. "Get over here and help me, people!" she yelled.

Everyone ran over. After Margo removed the axes, everyone started attending to Eliot's body. Some were holding bandages to the gaping wounds to stem the bleeding. Some were chanting healing spells. Alice was doing a complicated, delicate suturing spell.

No one noticed the body of the 35-year-old woman stirring on the other cot. When she moved to stand, everyone looked over, just in time to see her make a cutting motion with her hand and chop off one of Josh's arms. He looked down in amazement at where his arm used to be, then fainted wordlessly.

"Shit," Kady said, scrambling up and starting to perform battle magic on the woman. Alice swiftly joined her. The two of them were able to get her moved back from the rest of the group and into a corner, where they hit her with a barrage of magic. Everything they had.

The body finally collapsed the the ground, broken, covered in cuts and holes. Kady and Alice looked back to see that, not only had Josh lost an arm, but Hermione was laid out on the ground, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.

The group quickly changed up. Penny transported Josh and his arm to the infirmary at Brakebills while the others continued working on Eliot. They didn't want to take him anywhere else for fear he wouldn't survive the trip. He was extremely pale and his breathing was shallow.

By the time Penny returned, they had done pretty much everything they could do. Luckily, Penny had also brought several bags of blood and an IV kit.

"Where's Quentin," Penny asked.

"Huh?" said Julia, looking over. In all the commotion, no one had been watching. He had just disappeared. 

"Well, shit," drawled Margo, looking at the chair -- now empty, the bindings wrapped around it where the Monster used to be.

Eliot's body began to stir. "Q?" he said faintly.

"Eliot? Is that you?" Margo asked hesitantly, turning back to look at him and grasp his hand.

"Bambi?" Eliot questioned, trying hard to keep his eyes open. "Where are we? Where's Q? Why do I feel like I've been trampled by elephants?"

"All excellent questions," Margo said, tears in her eyes, "which I will definitely answer. Later."

She leaned down to hug him as tightly as she thought he could manage, but came back up quickly when his groans got louder. She looked down, trying to figure out what to say, but noticed he had fallen unconscious again. Well, at least she would have more time to prepare.

"I hope you're happy," Kady said, "because you just fucked all of us -- and possibly the whole world -- over for that moment."

"Now," Alice said, crossing her arms and fixing Margo with a glare, "we don't have Quentin, we don't have Hermione, and we used up almost all the magic in the batteries. And there's no way the Monster will trust any of us to let us get close enough to use ambrosia again. If we had any. Which we don't, since we just used all of it."

"You know what," Margo responded angrily, "Fuck you all very much. I **am** happy. And we'll figure it out. We always do."

Alice looked like she was gearing up to lay into Margo even more, but Julia stepped in. "I don't think we need to worry about getting close to the Monster. He'll be wanting revenge. We all need to be ready. I think it's time I worked on figuring out how to get my god powers back."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I started this before episode 9, I was aiming for places the show didn't go. So, I guess it's AU now. :) But, I will continue to use selected bits and pieces from the show as I see fit.

Eliot opened his eyes, then immediately closed them. Everything was too bright. Too loud. Everything hurt.

"He's waking up," he heard Margo say. "Give us a minute." Then he heard the door open and footsteps retreating.

Margo! He forced his eyes to open again and, gradually, the room began to come into focus. He was in his old room at the Physical Kids' Cottage, drapes drawn, but sun peeking through around the edges. He smacked his lips a little. His mouth felt so dry and his tongue felt like lead in his mouth.

He turned his head a little to see Margo. She looked terrible -- like she hadn't slept in weeks. And everyone knew Mama needed her beauty sleep. Her hair was in a disarray and her clothes were wrinkled all over. Worry creased her brow.

"You look like shit," he croaked out, then started coughing.

Relief flooded her face. "You're no Prince Charming yourself, right now," she said, smiling. She held a cup with a straw up to his lips. He drank enough to confirm that it was water, then started sucking deeply.

"Slow down," Margo said. "You've been out for three and a half days. Well, since we got you back. You were gone for **months** , El." Then her expression turned a bit angry. "You can never do that again, or I will kill you myself."

"All right, Bambi," he said, smiling at her tone. Only Margo would express love with threats of death. "I will avoid being possessed by gods in the future."

"You better," she said, smiling again. She rearranged the pillows and helped Eliot up to a sitting position.

"So, update me," he said. 

Her smile fell immediately. "Other than getting you back, it's not good. The Monster is still at large and everyone is terrified it's going to pop in at any moment and kill us all. Kady and Alice -- "

" -- Ew," Eliot interrupted, scrunching up his nose.

"I know. Apparently she's 'good' again. Or whatever. Anyway, they were able to obtain some kind of weird cloaking device from the Library, but we're not sure if it works on the Monster or not. It's supposed to be god-level magic, but, you know, that thing can kill gods. So, there's that. I had to abdicate my throne in Fillory. Long story. And I may or may not have released a dozen angry spirits into the world."

He knew the answer, but he had to ask. "Q?"

"Assuming it's the same deal as you, he's trapped in his own mind with the Monster, wherever that is." She examined Eliot's face closely. "What's the deal with you two? You've been babbling about him off and on during your sleep for days."

Eliot shifted uncomfortably. "I guess he's my . . . boyfriend?" he said uncertainly. "What do you call someone you were in a relationship with for decades in an alternate timeline, then sort of dumped, then professed your undying love to? In any event, I have a very vested interest in seeing him alive and in possession of his own body. Are we making progress on that?"

"Quentin? 'Undying love?'" Margo echoed in amazement. "I never thought I'd see the day you said that about anyone. But Quentin?"

"I have layers," Eliot said defensively. 

Margo nodded. "And so does he, I guess. All right, all right. I can see it. I mean, everyone knew you two were gonna bang again eventually." 

"I didn't," said Eliot. "And I certainly never thought I would want to settle down. But, I think I do."

"Aww, did my little boy grow up?" She pinched his cheek playfully.

"Stop," he said with a smile, batting her hand away. "It's sort of meaningless if I don't get him back in one piece. So, progress?" he reminded.

"I don't know," Margo said. "I've mostly been up here, waiting for your sorry ass to wake up. But, wait a minute." She stood and walked to open the door. "Julia," she called, "he's ready."

Eliot heard someone climbing the stairs and soon Julia was in the room. She, too, looked exhausted.

"Hi," she said, waving and hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

"Get in here and tell me why you haven't gotten Q back already. Can't you just," Eliot wiggled his fingers, trying to indicate god powers.

Julia came in and sat in Margo's abandoned chair. "I don't have my powers anymore," she said, shrugging. "In fact, I can't even do magic. I do seem to be immortal, though, so. Yay?"

"Okay," Eliot said. "So what's the plan?"

"We're kind of still working on that," Julia said. "Our old plan was to get the Monster into a different body and kill or, more likely, imprison it again. But, that kind of fell apart. And no matter what, it will be impossible to get Q back if we can't find the Monster."

"Can't you just, I don't know, summon it? Like, gods can be summoned sometimes, can't they?" Eliot asked, then immediately regretted it. Julia summoning Our Lady Underground is what had brought out Reynard, after all.

"Sometimes," Julia agreed. "But you often don't get what you're expecting."

"Maybe we just have to have something it wants," Eliot said. "Make it want to come to us."

"Maybe. The only thing we know it wants right now is the last part of the body it's trying to build. And we don't have any idea how we would go about getting that," Julia said.

"Well, you might not know how yet, but at least you know what you have to do," Eliot said. "I want to help."

"Just focus on getting better," Julia said, patting his hand.

Eliot gritted his teeth. "Bring me some god damn books and let me help! I have to do **something**. Please."

"Okay," Julia said, taken aback by his urgency. "I'll send something up."

"Thank you," he said, relaxing a bit. "And thank you for getting me back."

"It was a group effort," said Julia, smiling and leaving.

"I'm gonna get you some soup," Margo said, leaving also.

Suddenly, Quentin was in the room with him. No, that wasn't Quentin. Eliot could tell just by the way he was holding his body that it wasn't him. "I thought they would never leave," the thing wearing Quentin said in a lifeless tone. It waved Quentin's hand and the door shut and locked. Eliot thought how eerie it was, how both like and unlike Quentin it was at the same time. 

"We need to talk," the Monster said.

***

Quentin sat in the memory of his shack in Fillory and wondered what he could do. From the brief moment he'd been back in control of his body, he knew that everyone was still working on a way to defeat the Monster. But, what could he do to help?

When he first found himself back in the shack, alone, he looked everywhere for Eliot. He tried all the memories they'd visited together and dozens of others. He'd settle for Charlton at this point. Hell, even one of the shrieking monsters would be something.

He felt so alone. He tried settling into a memory of Eliot, but it wasn't the same. It just made him feel the loss more keenly. So instead, he stewed. 

Was he just supposed to sit here and wait to be rescued? That wasn't really his thing.

He suddenly realized that, although he was alone here in his consciousness, he wasn't alone in his body. The Monster was in here somewhere, too. There had to be some way to break through to it. He was sure it was pissed off about whatever his friends had been doing that left it bound and gagged. But, surely, it couldn't blame Quentin for that. Maybe, it would still think they were friends. Maybe, it would help him.

With that decided, he started off, zooming through every memory, but barely paying attention to them at all. Rather, he probed his every memory around the edges, looking for a way to get out.

Finally, he saw a beach he didn't recognize. Approaching, he felt a zing, like he'd walked through a magical barrier of some kind. 

As he got closer, he saw a young boy, playing on the beach. He was building a very elaborate sand castle, but not with his hands. Rather, he was using his hands, but he was building with magic. The sand just floated off the beach and into position. The castle grew larger and larger. A town sprung up around it. Quentin noticed there even seemed to be people walking around in it.

An older man ran up. "Azazel!" the man scolded sharply. "We've talked about this!"

The boy bowed his head. "Yes, Father," he said, waving his hand. The castle, the town, the people all distintigrated and washed out to sea. Quentin wasn't certain, but he could swear he'd heard the screams of the people.

"That's not better!" the man said in frustration. "Creation -- the ability to create -- cannot be undertaken lightly. The power you have, you **must** learn to control. You will never be accepted as one of us if you continue this way."

"I don't understand," the boy said. "It's not as if they matter."

"You brought them into existence," said his father. "You caused them to matter. Son, just because you **can** do something, it does not mean that you should. Wait until you're older and you will understand. Come along." He grasped the boy's hand and towed him along the beach.

Quentin followed, but the memory changed to something else. He was standing in an ornate temple. Many yards away, the man from before was talking softly to a woman who he thought he recognized, but could not place. They were so far away that he should not have been able to hear them, but he could. He noticed the boy, Azazel, was crouched in a doorway, eavesdropping.

"There's something not right about him, Iris," the man said. "It's not as if I have any great love for humanity, but his disregard for them is something else altogether. How can we fix that?"

"We may not be able to fix him, Enyalius," Iris said. "His lack of empathy extends far beyond humans. He doesn't seem to respect his fellow gods, either. He seems to care only for himself. Prometheus has a plan."

"Prometheus likes humans all too much," Enyalius said with a hint of disgust. "He's hated Azazel since he was birthed. There must be another way."

The scene shifted again. They were in the same temple, but now Quentin saw a stone altar. And tied to the altar was Azazel. He appeared a bit older, but still young. He was surrounded by Enyalius, Iris, Bacchus, and a fourth person Quentin assumed must be Heka. Each held a stone in their hand and were chanting. Azazel was screaming, begging them to stop. Shortly after, the stones began to glow and the four gods somehow pushed the stones into their chests. Azazel stopped screaming, then began to shudder. A stream of smoke left his mouth, crossing the temple into another body waiting, bound, on a second altar. Charlton, Quentin thought. The four gods went to Charlton and dragged him away. 

Quentin understood now. These must be the memories of the Monster. Of Azazel. Whatever the gods had done to him, they'd left him unable to access his own memories. But they were still here.

He wondered what he could do with his new-found information when a very out-of-place door suddenly appeared. He had no idea where it would lead, but quickly walked to it anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

The Monster wearing Quentin's body approached Eliot's bed and sat on the edge. Eliot eyed it suspiciously as it looked at Eliot silently for several long moments.

"If you're here to talk, talk," Eliot finally said in as bored a tone as he could manage. "If you're here to kill me, get it over with." He sincerely hoped that wasn't about to happen. He found he actually had a lot to live for, for once. But, he'd be damned if he'd let this thing intimidate him.

The Monster closed its eyes and shifted its head around, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "When you were inside of me, I could always feel you moving around in there. But Quentin is doing . . . more. It's disturbing."

It was interesting that the Monster perceived it as Eliot or Quentin being inside of **it**. Eliot had felt just the opposite. "Yeah," Eliot said. "He's always been a little extra."

"Like how obsessed he was that I let him talk to you or take care of your body," the Monster said. "It was very tiresome."

Eliot had no idea where this was going, but decided to just play along. That's probably what Q did for all this time, too, after all. "Yeah, I can see that."

"I think I . . .miss him?" said the Monster. "It is a feeling I do not care for. I did not know such a thing was possible."

"He has a way of just burrowing in," Eliot agrees, nodding. It can't hurt to remind the Monster that it likes Quentin. Maybe it'll take good care of him then.

"He said we were friends. I've never really had a friend. Ora was supposed to be my friend, but she was bad at it. Very boring. Always treating me like a baby. Always scared I was going to hurt her. Quentin was boring, too, but for some reason, he was not as afraid of me. Now you will be my friend, so I still have one. He said when you tried to kill me, it was a misunderstanding. That you didn't mean to do it."

"Oh, I meant it at the time," said Eliot said flippantly, almost without meaning to. He'd have to be more careful. He wasn't used to walking such a tightrope. "But, that's before I got to know you," he continued in a placating tone. "And you're fine so, you know: no harm, no foul."

"Why is everyone always trying to kill me?" the Monster asked, seeming honestly confused.

"Um, because you're a super-powerful god prone to killing humans like they're flies?" Eliot guessed.

"But you **are** like flies," the Monster insisted. "You are everywhere and serve no purpose. Your lives are so short. All you care about is eating and having sex."

"I suppose it would look like that from your point of view. But, we do other things. We learn. We grow. We try to help one another. If we're very lucky," Eliot choked up a bit, but continued, "we get to love one another."

"Love again," the Monster said, making a face. "Ugh. I don't understand it. Quentin said he loved his father. I don't even remember mine."

"Maybe if you did, you would understand," said Eliot. Though, he certainly hadn't felt love for his own father, so it was no guarantee. He wasn't sure if he should share this next piece of information, but it was the only real leverage he had in this situation. "I know your memories are still in you. I saw some of them. If I helped you finish your body and get your memories back, would you give me back Quentin?"

The Monster eyed him suspiciously. "Is this another trick? Hoolia and Percy said they were helping, and then they tried to kill me."

"It's not a trick. I will definitely help you, if you agree to three things." Eliot thought that he would really have no way to enforce his ultimatum once the Monster was back to full power. But it was the best thing he could think about right now. His go-to move of killing the scary thing just wasn't going to work this time. So, instead, he needed to focus on at least minimizing the damage to himself and the people he cared about.

"What three things?" the Monster asked a bit mulishly.

"One: you return Quentin safely and permanently to his body and you don't possess anyone else," Eliot said, raising up one finger.

"Agreed. If I have my body back, I will have no further need for the weak meat suits you humans provide," the Monster replied.

"Vivid imagery," Eliot said, shaking his head in disgust. "Two, you don't seek revenge on any of my friends for anything you think we did to you."

"Fine," the Monster nodded. "You'll all be dead soon, anyway."

Eliot was hoping that meant that, according to the Monster's way of seeing things, their lifespans were so short that seven more decades was 'soon.'

"What's the last thing?" the Monster asked.

"I want you to leave Earth and Fillory and their inhabitants alone. I know I can't control what you do once you're all-powerful again, but I ask you to go do it somewhere else."

"I'm not certain I can agree to that," the Monster said, thinking. "Once I have gotten back everything they took from me, I might have unfinished business here."

"Then no deal," Eliot said, crossing his arms defiantly.

"I can kill this body," the Monster threatened, leaning in to intimidate Eliot . "I can kill it and take another."

"Do it," Eliot said, meeting its eyes evenly and bluffing wildly. "Kill your only friend. Turn away the person trying to help you. Keep living your sad and lonely life. And you'll have to kill me, too. Because I will burn down this world trying to end you if you take Quentin away from me."

"The world you just tried to bargain to save?" the Monster said.

"Yeah, well . . ." Eliot shrugged. "Priorities."

The Monster thought a bit. "What if I offer you something else you want?"

"What would that be?" asked Eliot, creasing his brow.

"All of you seem strained by the blockage to the flow of magic. What if I removed it?"

Eliot was taken aback. "You can do that?"

"Right now, I can only sense the flow," the Monster said, cocking its head. "My own powers come from a different source, so I haven't thought much about it. But once I have my body and all of my powers back, it should be easy."

Eliot stared into Quentin's dead eyes. What would Quentin do? He would never agree to this, of that Eliot was sure. He would never let the Monster go knowing it might go out and hurt others. But, if they had unrestricted magic, they would have ways of fighting back. And, it never said it **wouldn't** leave. Just that it couldn't promise to do so. And who was he kidding, he really only thought he'd get to have the first two things anyway.

"You drive a hard bargain," Eliot said, sticking out his hand for a handshake. The Monster looked at it curiously, then stuck out Quentin's hand, but more as a mimic, not to shake hands. Eliot guided Quentin's hand to his and shook. He looked around and summoned some paper and a pen, quickly writing up a Word as Bond, explaining what he was doing to the Monster. He had little hope it would work on the thing, but he had to try. He picked up some scissors and pierced the flesh in the tip of his thumb, watching the blood bead. The Monster just looked at Quentin's thumb and blood began to drip out. The deal was sealed. There was no backing out now.

"Now, let me speak to Quentin," Eliot said, continuing over the Monster's protests. "If we want to finish building your body, we need information from your memories, and he's the only one that can access them now."

"Fine," the Monster said. "One minute."

"Ten," Eliot countered.

"Five," the Monster said, and Eliot nodded.

Quentin's body wobbled a bit and then, ever so slightly, the very way the shoulders slumped made it obvious to Eliot that this was Quentin.

"Eliot!" he exclaimed, grabbing him in a hug, then pulling away to talk. "What happened?"

"They were able to pull me out," Eliot said, "but some shit hit the fan before they could get the Monster out of you. I'm sorry you're still stuck there."

"I found another door," Quentin said quickly, "here in the Monster's memories. I don't know how much time we have."

"He put that there for you," Eliot said. "He's letting us talk for five minutes. We're going to help him get his body back and he's going to leave us alone."

"You mean you are going to pretend to help and then you guys are going to imprison him," Quentin said in that annoying, mansplaining way he sometimes had.

"No," Eliot said slowly. "We're going to really help, and then hope that he fucks off somewhere and we never see him again."

"El, you can't just let him out. You don't know what he's capable of," Quentin said fearfully.

"None of us do, really," Eliot said. "We're just taking a bunch of old gods' word for it that he's the worst. When have you ever known a god to tell the whole truth? Or to have anything but its own interests in mind?"

Quentin shook his head emphatically. "The things I watched him do. The things he **made** me do. He really is a monster."

"We all do bad things. We -- " Eliot started.

"-- Not like this!" Quentin interrupted.

Eliot took Quentin's hand and started petting it in the calming way he'd learned in their years at the Mosaic. "We all do bad things or think of even worse things we **want** to do. What stops us? Our conscience. That's what he's missing. It's like Julia without her shade. Do gods have shades?" Eliot mused. "Maybe we can get him one."

"From the memories I've seen, he never had one," Quentin argued. "And it's not the kind of thing you can just conjure."

"Well, after we let him go, he's going to give us all completely unrestricted access to magic. So anything could happen," Eliot threw up his hands. "We might figure it out. If nothing else, we'll have the magic to defend ourselves. From the Monster and the Library and Irene McCallister and anyone else who wants to try us."

"Or he might obliterate the planet," Quentin said. "You can't -- "

"-- It's done," Eliot interrupted. "We shook on it. Word as Bond."

"El, no," Quentin said in disbelief.

Eliot shrugged, pretending far less concern than he felt. He made the decision, so he needed to be the strong one here. "So, unless you want me to be immolated for breaking my word, you ought to help."

Quentin looked like he was about to cry, then took a deep breath and looked in Eliot's eyes. "This is a horrible idea."

"One of my all-time worst," Eliot agreed, smiling somewhat sadly and reaching up to brush Quentin's hair behind his ears. "But you weren't here to stop me or try sacrificing yourself again. So, what are you gonna do?"

Quentin pushed forward and kissed Eliot, who immediately deepened the kiss. They'd kissed inside of Quentin's memories, but it had felt different. Distant. This felt real. This felt like the only thing that mattered. Except -- Eliot pulled away and put his forehead to Quentin's. 

"We don't have much time," Eliot said. "You need to start looking through its memories for anything that might help."

"His," Quentin corrected. "His name is Azazel."

"That's progress, I guess," Eliot conceded. "Try to find out where the last stone organ is."

"I think I have a lead on that, actually," said Quentin. "We already knew it's in Enyalius. But now I know that Enyalius is Azazel's father. There must be some sort of magic that will help him find his own kin."

"I'll start researching that," Eliot said. "You keep combing his memories for anything useful. We'll talk again soon."

"Okay," Quentin agreed.

Then they both just sort of sat there, staring at each other, unsure what to say or do next. "Fuck it," Eliot said finally, pulling Quentin down to lay with him and wrapping his arms around him. "I don't know if we have two minutes or two seconds, but I'm going to enjoy this while it lasts."

Quentin buried his face in Eliot's chest. "You finally smell like you again," he mumbled, kissing the fabric of Eliot's silk pajamas.

They held each other until Quentin stiffened and Eliot knew he was gone. He opened his arms and started sitting up and the Monster followed.

"Your name is Azazel," Eliot told him.

"Azazel," he said slowly, turning the name around in his mouth and seeing if it sparked anything.

"Quentin has been very busy," Eliot said, smiling a bit. He didn't know why, but he was somehow proud of Quentin's accomplishments, as if he'd had a part in them himself. "Come back tomorrow and we should have a locator spell ready for the fourth stone."

Azazel nodded and disappeared. Eliot settled back into bed.

Suddenly, the door to the room flew off the hinges and shattered against the far wall. Eliot bolted upright and shouted in surprise.

Margo, Julia, Alice, Penny and Kady rushed in, ready for a battle, then looked around and dropped their hands and weapons to their sides.

"What the fuck was that for!" Eliot yelled at the same time as Margo exclaimed "What the fuck, El!"

"You've been sealed in here for the last 30 minutes!" Margo continued. "We've all been throwing everything we could think of at the door, but it refused to open. Penny couldn't teleport in. We couldn't hear anything. We even tried getting in through the wall of my room next door. What's been going on in here?"

"Well," Eliot said, settling back into the bed now that the excitement was over. "Whatever Monster-proof device the Library gave you works for shit, for starters." He didn't relish the idea of telling them about the deal he'd just made. He knew they were all going to rip into him even more than Quentin had. But, he was going to need all of their help.

"First of all," he said, "the Monster's name is Azazel."


	10. Chapter 10

The whole gang, except for Quentin, sat around the living room of Kady's apartment in New York. Eliot sat on the couch, with Margo at his side. Her back was straight and she acted every inch the king she would always be to him as she took it upon herself to recap for everyone assembled. This was mostly for Josh's sake since, having just been released from the infirmary, he was the most out of the loop.

Josh's arm had been reattached, but they weren't sure yet if he'd be able to do magic with it. For right now, it was bandaged tightly to his chest underneath his shirt, leaving an odd bulge and a weirdly hanging, empty armhole. "So, wait a minute," he said, trying to sit up straighter, but mostly just falling over in his chair. "We're helping the thing now? After it cut my arm off?"

"The Monster -- " Julia started to say.

"-- Azazel," Eliot corrected.

"Azazel," Julia continued with a head tilt, "didn't cut your arm off."

Josh looked confused. "Then who did?"

"We know that there were many consciousnesses inside of Quentin's body other than Eliot and Azazel and guessed that some of them belonged to other monsters that Azazel possessed while in Blackspire," said Julia. "As near as we can figure, they all went into Eliot's body when Hermione did the transfer, then were released when Margo used her axes. One of them must have entered the woman's body after that."

"I thought it was that Charlton dude," Josh said. "In Eliot." 

"He would have been one of the many things in there," Julia answered. "Though as a former human, he would not have survived the axing that exorcised all the spirits except for Eliot's."

As the only one of the group who had really gotten to know Charlton, Eliot was sad that he hadn't made it. He supposed Charlton would have been dead eons ago if he hadn't been possessed. So, in some ways, he got to live a long life. But still, he'd wanted to continue to educate him in the ways of the modern world. "Where is he now, do you suppose?" Eliot asked a bit wistfully.

"Probably the Underworld," Julia said.

"Can we focus, people?" demanded Margo. "We have much more important things to discuss."

"Wait," Josh said. "What happened to the thing that cut off my arm?"

"We killed it," Margo said authoritatively, straightening up. Looking back, her choice to use the axes was probably a bit short-sighted. But, now that Eliot was back, she refused to feel bad about it. The ends justified the means.

"We killed **that** one," Alice corrected in an argumentative tone. "All of the other monsters are floating out in the world somewhere, probably taking other hosts."

"One problem at a time, Alice," Margo snapped. "It's hardly as if I'm the only person who ever made a decision that backfired on us. Why is it that we have to scrounge around to get enough magic to do even the simplest spells again? Oh yeah. That's right. Your stupid-ass decided to help the Library."

"That's not what happened -- "Alice started to say defensively.

" -- Stop!" Eliot burst in. "We don't have time for this bullshit right now. We have things to do to get Quentin back and to keep Azazel from killing all of us!"

Eliot felt Quentin's loss keenly. Since they'd been introduced -- and their lives went into complete disarray -- Eliot couldn't remember the last time they'd all tried to face a crisis without him. He was usually the one leading the discussions, keeping them on track. Eliot just missed him so much. Having Margo there helped, of course, but there was a part of him still waiting for Q to jump in with another idea, or a theory, or even to tell them they were all idiots.

Right now, that last part was falling to Alice.

"You're all idiots!" she said firmly. "You cannot possibly be thinking of freeing that thing into the world."

Kady was nodding. "And she wasn't even here for most of the rough stuff," she said, siding with her new best friend. "Have any of you even bothered looking into the mythos around Azazel? He's been characterized by many cultures as the actual devil." 

"Stop quoting his Wikipedia page at me," Margo said, irritated. "As previously stated, Eliot and Azazel have a Word as Bond. So, if we don't help, Eliot is the one who pays the price."

"Or we do help," Alice says, "and the whole world pays the price."

"You're free to leave," Margo said, pointing at the door. Eliot touched Margo's arm to try to calm her down. He knew that they were going to need Alice's help. She knew the most magic and was their best researcher, especially with Quentin gone. "But," Margo continued, "I know you want to see Quentin back just as much as anybody."

Alice just crossed her arms and huffed.

"Right," Margo said. "So, we are going to split up and try to find every spell there is to find lost relatives."

Everyone kind of mumbled their grievances as they split into groups. Alice and Kady were going back to Brakebills to search the library there. Everyone else was going to look through the books they'd stored up here.

"You two should get some rest," Margo said to Eliot and Josh. "You're still healing."

"Yeah," Josh said, standing. "Research isn't really my bag, either. I'll see if I can rustle up some lunch for us first."

"Don't overdo it," Margo said fondly, patting his good shoulder as he headed toward the kitchen. "And you," she said, turning to Eliot.

"Don't even start," Eliot interrupted. "I need to be alert in case Azazel shows up. I'm the one he has the deal with, after all."

"That doesn't mean it's all on you," Margo said. "We're going to get him back."

"God, I hope so," Eliot said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If we don't, after all this -- "

"Don't even let yourself think it," Margo said, patting his leg. "I know you weren't here to see it, but Q was just as much of a basket case while you were gone." Margo smiled like she had a good joke. "I can't believe I didn't figure out about you two from how much he lost his shit."

As badly as he felt knowing how much Quentin had suffered while he was gone, Eliot couldn't help but be a little satisfied knowing how much Quentin wanted him. Especially since the feeling was mutual. "Well, you know I'm classified as an addictive substance in many books," Eliot joked.

Margo laughed out loud, causing the other groups huddled over books around the room to look over sharply. "Back to work!" she ordered, picking up one of the books on the coffee table and bringing it to her lap for Eliot and her to read. "Us, too," she said more softly, smile on her face.

By the time Azazel popped in a few hours later, everyone had reassembled and the group had come up with a stack of possibilities. Eliot forced Azazel to eat a plate of food Josh had prepared while he talked the god through what they wanted to try. 

"Before we do anything else, though," Eliot said to Azazel, "we should contact Quentin one more time and see if he's found any new information."

Eliot thought he'd seen every expression in was possible for Quentin's face to make, but was amazed at how Azazel could use Quentin's face in ways he'd never seen it before. Eliot was guessing Azazel was uncomfortable, but his expression was so unlike Q's uncomfortable face. 

"I don't like when he's in control," Azazel said, pouting a bit. "When you are in my mind, you access your memories. When I'm in there, it's like being in an empty, dark room."

That made sense, considering Azazel didn't have access to his own memories. "We'll be quick," Eliot reassured. "Give us ten minutes."

"Fine," Azazel said, sitting on the gold chair and closing his eyes.

***

Quentin couldn't believe he was thinking it, but the more he saw of Azazel's memories, the more he began to empathize with him. His life before Blackspire had really sucked -- and this was coming from someone who has had some pretty awful things happen to him. As Quentin explored, trying to find any useful information, all he saw was scene after scene of Azazel being bullied by his peers for being strange, or berated by various older gods, especially his father. Enyalius didn't seem to be in the picture much, but when he was, he wasn't very kind.

Quentin started to piece together something odd when he noticed all of the whispered conversations between Enyalius and Iris. The sly glances. The touches they tried to hide. Azazel probably didn't understand what he was seeing at the time, but those two were definitely fucking. And from the number of those hushed conversations that ended in one or both of the older gods storming off, Quentin deduced that it was not always a happy union.

For one thing, Enyalius was supposedly happily married to Azazel's mother, Clymene, a beautiful and rather vapid-seeming woman who would flit in and out of scenes without really seeming to notice Azazel. On the rare occasions that Quentin witnessed a family moment, Enyalius and Clymene paid far more attention to each other than Azazel.

Finally, Quentin saw something truly noteworthy. In a darkened bedroom, Azazel had been tossing and turning, trying to sleep, when Iris crept in the window. He pretended to be asleep as she stood over him, whispering something Quentin couldn't understand. Then, a glowing light emerged from Azazel's body and she trapped it in a box and snuck back out of the room the way she'd come in.

Eliot had mentioned before that Azazel behaved like Julia when she was missing her shade. Could this be what happened? 

Quentin desperately wanted to share this information with someone, but there was no way for him to do it. He just had to wait for Azazel to provide him with another door.

He continued searching Azazel's memory until the door appeared and he ran for it.

He opened his eyes to find himself in Kady's apartment, everyone staring at him. "Hi," he said, waving awkwardly. "It's me."

"Hi," Eliot said, coming to sit on the ottoman in front of Quentin and touching his knees gently.

"Oh!" Josh said out loud, realizing for the first time what it meant that the two of them had been so desperate to get one another back. Everyone looked at him. "Never mind," he said, shaking his head and smiling. "Carry on."

"Have you found anything new?" Eliot asked Quentin softly.

"Actually, yeah," Quentin said, looking to the group. "We already know that gods can be capricious and careless with human life. Look at everything that's happened with Ember and Bacchus. But Azazel has always seemed bad even by that standard. Eliot mentioned the last time I was . . . here . . . in my body . . . whatever. Last time, he reminded me what Julia acted like without her shade. And I think maybe Iris took Azazel's shade from him."

"Why would she do that?" Julia asked.

"Long story," Quentin said. "But, she pulled something glowing out of him and put it in a box."

"What did the box look like," Alice asked, very curious.

"Give me . . . " Quentin said, reaching for some paper and a pencil on a nearby table. He started sketching the box, which he'd noticed had many distinctive designs carved into the sides. He handed the sketch to Alice.

"I'll see what I can find," she said, trying to smile at him.

"I figured you would," he replied, not really returning the smile, then turned his attention to Julia. "You would probably be the best one to counsel Azazel through this, since you've lived it."

"I don't know, Q. He doesn't trust me anymore," Julia said, shaking her head doubtfully.

"Well, you're the best shot we've got," Quentin said.

"We're going to get you back soon, Q," Julia said, hugging him tightly.

"I know you're trying -- " Quentin started.

"-- We **will** ," Eliot said fiercely. He leaned in close and embraced Quentin. "We will," he repeated softly, kissing the side of Quentin's head.

Quentin returned the hug. "Okay," he said, feeling a bit lost, but trusting in Eliot.

They parted just in time for Azazel to return, looking at them expectantly.

"Quentin thinks he found out something that can help you," Eliot said. "Julia?" Eliot stood and traded places with Julia so she was sitting in front of Azazel.

"I know you think you can't trust me, but you can," Julia said. Azazel looked skeptical, but nodded for her to continue. "You told Eliot that you didn't understand why people are always mad at you and that you don't understand love."

Azazel nodded again.

"A while ago, a lot of bad things happened to me and I was separated from my shade," Julia said. Azazel looked confused, so she continued to explain. "It's the thing inside humans that helps us understand right from wrong. Like our conscience. And it helps us connect to other people. To know love. Quentin thinks you had something similar, but Iris stole it from you."

Azazel's eyes bulged a bit in surprise. "She took that, too? Can I get it back?"

"We're not sure," Julia said gently. "We're going to look for it for you. We're going to try. But, I can tell you from personal experience, living without a shade is possible. It's hard work. It can be really hard to make decisions because when you do what you think is right, without compassion for other beings, you end up hurting a lot of feelings. The only way I was able to get through it was to rely on others to act as my conscience for me. I had someone to stop me before I just did the most expedient thing and killed everyone in my way."

"So, I will have someone to help me be nice and people will like me?" Azazel asked. "You will be my friends?"

Rather a simplistic way of looking at it, but Julia supposed that was about right. "Yeah. Yes. We would be friends with you if you were more friendly to us."

"I can be nice," Azazel said, waving his hand in Josh's direction.

"Whoa!" Josh exclaimed, then smiled. "My arm. It feels better." He reached into his shirt and undid his sling, pulling his arm back through the hole. "Thanks, man."

Julia smiled and nodded at Azazel. "It's easier to be friends with people when you are kind than when you threaten them."

"I will try it your way," he said. "When will I have my body back?"

"We have several spells for you to try to locate Enyalius based on the bloodline you share," Eliot said, handing him the stack of papers. "This is going to take a while."


	11. Chapter 11

When the group started trying to locate Enyalius in earnest, they tried all the simple spells first. None of them worked, of course. Enyalius would be far too much on his guard, especially now, to allow himself to be located by such rudimentary spells. 

But, as they progressed to the more complicated spellwork, every spell had a long list of required ingredients, some very hard to come by. Azazel and Penny had their hands full popping to locations all over the world -- and some other worlds -- hunting for the more obscure ingredients. And it didn't help that the group decided to always send a chaperone of sorts with Azazel, to try to make sure he wasn't just killing people left and right to obtain said ingredients.

On one trip to remote forest in Spain, Azazel and Eliot hunted for a particular rodent. As they walked through the forest, Azazel asked Eliot a question he had not been expecting.

"Hoolia wants me to not always do the most -- what did she say? expedient? -- thing. When we track down my father, I should kill him? Or no?"

Eliot tripped on a tree root. He couldn't believe that in all the days of hard work they'd all put in to locate Enyalius, not one of them thought about what finding him would mean. What Azazel would have to do. "Can you get the piece out without killing him?" he asked.

Azazel tilted his head, looking curiously at Eliot. "I'm not sure. It never mattered before, so I didn't think to try."

Eliot looked at Azazel, still using the body of the man he loved. He thought of Quentin, still trapped inside his own mind. "We have to get you out of Quentin. We need the piece to finish your body. You won't be able to get back to full power without it. But it's your father. It should be your choice."

"Quentin loved his father," Azazel said. "He wouldn't do it."

"I don't know," Eliot said honestly, wishing so much that Quentin were here to answer for himself. "He worked hard to restore magic, knowing that doing so would cause his dad's cancer to return."

"Would you do it?" Azazel asked.

Eliot thought about it for a moment. "I'm not sure. My dad and I . . . He has never been the most accepting. We don't really . . . " Eliot choked up a little. He almost never thought about his father anymore. He remembered the way he used to scream joyously when his dad would pick him up and toss him high into the air, never doubting that his dad would catch him. He remembered the way he hid his Playgirl magazines so carefully, never doubting the beating that he would receive if his dad caught him. "It's complicated."

Azazel simply nodded and they continued the hunt in silence.

***

As they tried spell after spell, the limits on magic were becoming quite burdensome. They moved a couple of the charged batteries up from Antarctica, but were still constantly running out. 

After nearly a week with nothing to show for it, everyone could tell Azazel was getting frustrated. They were all worried what he would do if none of the spells worked. Doing a couple of nice things hardly counted as him becoming an entirely different entity.

Finally, as Alice and Kady uttered the words and flexed their hands through the complicated motions of one of the spells they'd discovered, the lights flickered and another being appeared in the living room.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, as Azazel pounced on him, pulling him to the ground. He put up his hands in surrender. "Azazel," he said. "Stop! I'm your father."

"If you wanted me to treat you as a father, you should have treated me as a son," Azazel said simply, examining Enyalius scrambling underneath him like a bug pinned to a specimen tray while still alive. He plunged his hand into Enyalius' chest. The group made faces of disgust or horror or just looked away as the older god's blood splattered on the furniture and flowed unto the carpet. It was hard to look at, but it was the only way to finish Azazel's body and all of the information Quentin shared made it seem like he sort of deserved it.

Azazel held the bloody rock up triumphantly.

Julia took it from him and laid it on the floor with the other three. They glowed as they got near one another.

"Azazel," Julia said. "Would you," she pointed at the bloody mess of body on the floor.

Azazel looked confused for a moment. "Oh," he said as he understood. "You wish for me to move the body."

"If you don't mind," she said.

Azazel waved his hand and the living room looked just as it had ten minutes earlier, as if nothing had happened at all.

The group formed a circle around them and started chanting the words of the spell that Julia and Shoshana had discovered to reform the body.

"It's not working," Alice said in irritation. "We're out of ambient magic and the batteries are tapped. We'll have to wait until we can get them to Brakebills South to recharge."

"Or . . ." Azazel said, waving his hand. Everyone except Julia gasped and stumbled a bit.

"What did you do?" Eliot asked.

"I broke the pipe running through the room," Azazel said as if they were all very stupid.

Everyone could feel the dramatic increase in ambient energy coursing through them.

"Fuck!" Alice said. "That means the Library is going to come any minute. Let's hurry up."

They all resumed the spell and something started happening immediately. The lights began to flicker. The stones hovered in the air, seeming to expand and knitting themselves together until, finally, the body of what looked like a teenager appeared.

Quentin's body collapsed and shivered as a line of smoke came out of his mouth and entered the newly formed body.

Then everything was eerily calm for a few moments as time seemed to stretch out. 

Quentin and Azazel both gasped at the same time and started to sit up. Eliot and Julia rushed to Quentin's side. Azazel looked around, confused.

"Q!" Eliot said frantically. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," Quentin said, touching his arms and chest as if to confirm he was finally back in possession of his body. His face broke into the kind of smile Eliot had started to think he would never see again in person. It was the smile he reserved for when Teddy had done something particularly impressive. "You did it," he said to Eliot, bringing a hand up to his face.

Eliot found it impossible not to match Quentin's grin. "We all did. You included. But, if you wanted to give me a special reward for a job well done, who am I to stop you?"

"Who indeed," Quentin said, pulling Eliot to him and kissing him quickly, then leaning up to whisper in his ear. "I'm going to need a few hours to thank you properly."

"Oh?" Eliot said. "Is that all? I think you're greatly underestimating how long it's going to take for me to show you how much I missed you."

Quentin laughed. "And I think you're greatly **overestimating** how much we'll be able to do before we both pass out from exhaustion." He looked over to where Azazel still sat, touching his own body and looking around with a sense of wonder. "What about you?" he asked.

"I think I am okay, too," Azazel said slowly, turning to look at him. He smiled as he continued to feel his body. "I'm finally feeling like myself again. And I remember everything."

"So, now what?" Quentin asked. This was the moment of truth. Azazel had what he wanted. He was back to full strength. He had his memories.

"Um, I'll let you know," Azazel said. He turned to Julia and reached a hand up to her chest.

A light appeared and she angled her head backward. When she looked back at the group, her eyes had the godly glow that had been missing since their fateful trip to Blackspire. "I wasn't powerful enough before, but now I am. I have fixed you, like I fixed that one," Azazel said, motioning to Josh. It seemed, to him, restoring an injured arm was just like restoring someone's godhood.

"Don't forget about the third part of your bargain," Alice reminded Azazel with a strong sense of urgency.

He cocked his head and looked like he was thinking. "Done," he said simply.

"That's it?" Kady said. "You removed the device from the fountain? Don't you have to be in Blackspire?"

"Hardly," scoffed Azazel. "And I don't wish to ever return there."

"That should buy us some time," Alice said. "If the Library is dealing with magic becoming completely free and open everywhere again, they will hardly have the resources to come examine one little pipe in New York."

"We have to go check in with the hedges," Kady said, pulling Alice along with her. "This changes everything." They quickly packed up and left the apartment.

Eliot looked at Azazel in his new body. "I think that completes our deal," he said. "So, you're free to go, I guess?"

"Where will you go?" asked Quentin.

"No where just yet," Azazel answered, looking to Julia. "Apparently I'm still missing a part of me."

"We can start looking for your shade tomorrow. I think we all need some rest," she said meaningfully, glancing at Quentin and Eliot. "I'm glad you're back," she said to Quentin. "We'll talk later?" she asked. 

He nodded, and she got up to walk to her room. 

"Yeah, glad you didn't die," Penny said, smiling and following Julia.

"Fine! Leave me to do the grunt work!" Margo said with a pretense of irritation. "Guess I'll add another room to the enchantment for our new friend here. Hoberman!" she barked. "Help a sister out." He hopped up immediately to follow. She glanced over at Quentin and Eliot, failing to mask her smile. "Welcome back, Q," she threw over her shoulder. "And you two, remember, this is a shared space. Silencing spells are a kindness." She started up the stairs with Josh and Azazel close behind. 

And then, it was just the two of them in the living room, smiling at each other like the world's biggest dorks. "I love it when your face makes that face," Eliot said.

Quentin broke out in laughter, remembering the last time Eliot had used that line. "So, you remember what the face is for?"

"Oh, yeah," Eliot confirmed, waggling his eyebrows.

Quentin blushed. "So, this is happening?"

"Oh, this is happening," Eliot said, standing, then putting a hand down to help Quentin up. "I've been using your room."

"I want to go to there," Quentin said, as Eliot pulled him down the hallway.

"I can't believe I'm in love with you!" Eliot said.

"Me either," Quentin said in amazement.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completed the majority of what I wanted to do with this story in the first 11 chapters, so this is more of an epilogue to tie up loose ends. I hope it satisfies.

ONE YEAR LATER

Eliot and Quentin sat outside their cabin, rocking in a love-seat sized wooden swing and taking in the glorious Fillorian air, now with a just-right amount of opium.

"It's pretty much all come together, hasn't it?" Eliot asked.

Quentin looked back at the cabin behind him and couldn't help but agree. "Who'd have thought we would ever be back here?" he said.

For the last several months, Quentin and Eliot had been renovating the old shack that somehow still stood outside the mosaic. Since it had been solved, it got few visitors. But some sort of enchantment must have been on the place because, when they first arrived, it had looked much the same as they remembered it.

They pretty much gutted it and added all the modern conveniences it had always been lacking -- like heat and indoor plumbing -- in addition to several rooms. It was still somewhat rustic, but fairly advanced by Fillorian standards.

Fillory was complicated, but still easier than Earth in many ways. With the Wellspring back to full strength, the people were generally happy again. It helped that the old rule that only Children of Earth could become Kings and Queens had been done away with. The people were really stepping up and taking more responsibility for governing, and for improving their land. Fen was still ruling, but Margo and Josh were on her council and did a lot of work. Eliot and Quentin helped out when asked, but tried to stay out of it.

"You know, I really do love it here. In some ways I have lived here longer than any other place," Eliot said.

Quentin laughed. "In some ways, you've lived here longer than you've even been alive. Fifty plus years out of 27? Interesting ratio."

"True," Eliot said. "Are you really okay moving here full time?"

The two had been splitting their time between Earth and Fillory. Now that they had a traveler and two gods in their friend group, transportation was a little easier. Julia kept saying she was going to make them a new button, too, but somehow never got around to it.

The return of magic to Earth had been a bit of a mixed bag. For every person who now had enough magic to do good deeds -- like helping crops to grow in the desert or healing the sick -- there seemed to be another person that used the extra power to be a stealthier thief or a more effective assassin. And that was just the human magicians. That wasn't even accounting for all the scary creatures who awoke after centuries of laying dormant, many thanks to Margo releasing them into the wild. As Margo was wont to say, "Mo' magic, mo' problems."

It had made Eliot want to leave, and Quentin didn't have any strong desire to stay either. So they'd converted their planned vacation home in Fillory into a full-time residence.

"Honestly," said Quentin, "I couldn't care less where we lived. I just want to be where you are."

Eliot tried not to smile, but couldn't stop it. "That's disgustingly sappy," he said, throwing an arm around Quentin and hugging him to his chest.

Quentin turned slightly to look up at him. "I hope that's a compliment." He leaned up to kiss Eliot's lips. As far as they'd come, they'd occasionally fall into old patterns. Eliot would try to belittle himself or downplay Quentin's feelings. Quentin knew the only thing he could do was just keep reminding Eliot of the depth of their love.

Eliot rolled his eyes. "Yes, dear. I love you, too. Now can we stop ruining this lovely sunset with our feelings?"

"How about if we ruin the sunset by feeling other things," Quentin said suggestively, running a hand up the inside of Eliot's thigh.

"Well, seen one sunset, seen them all," Eliot said quickly, hurrying them into the house and up to their bedroom. 

Hours later, they were sitting in the kitchen enjoying a late dinner when Azazel popped in out of nowhere.

Quentin laughed as Eliot nearly jumped out of his chair.

"Hey," Quentin said to Azazel.

"What have we said about knocking?" Eliot asked a bit testily. 

"Sorry," Azazel said, but they could tell he still really didn't understand the whole privacy thing, no matter how many times they tried to explain it to him. "I came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Quentin said. "What do you mean?"

"I think I'm finally ready," Azazel said.

"Ready for what?" Quentin asked, turning to see if Eliot was following any better. He just shrugged.

"I'm going to go off and start creating again. On my own."

Reuniting Azazel with his shade had been a difficult process. For the months they'd searched for it, he'd looked to Quentin, Eliot and Julia constantly for direction and validation. Quentin and Eliot felt like they were raising a child together again, and it really wasn't that far off the mark. Except, this child had the capacity to kill them with a thought.

They'd eventually found the shade in the poison room. The Library, being the power-hungry hoarders they were, still retained so much history and so many artifacts. It was absolutely no surprise to anyone when Zelda took one look at the drawing Quentin had made from Azazel's memories and said she thought she'd seen that box before. However, it was quite a surprise when Zelda, with Kady and Alice's help, was able to get a small band of Librarians to turn against their former employer and join up with the hedges instead. They'd all begun to understand the damage that they did to everyone by refusing to allow hedge witches to flourish. By trying to prevent hedges from learning and using magic, they were not allowing them to become their full selves. And who knew what brilliant magical minds might be among them, just waiting for their chance to shine. Those rogue Librarians did their best to fuck things up for the Library on their way out, including reappropriating a bunch of stuff from the poison room.

Once Azazel was brought back together with his shade, he started to feel again. But it wasn't all rosy. He was now able to go back through every bad decision he'd made. Every creature he'd tortured or killed. It was a very long list. And he was not happy with himself.

Julia remembered the pain having a shade again after living without brought and tried to coach him through it. The thing they found that worked the best was the act of creation. As a child, Azazel had loved creating new worlds, but hadn't cared enough about the inhabitants to really help them after that. Now, he cared probably too much. He and Julia spent months at a time planning not just a new world, but trying to better the lives of the tens of thousands of creatures living in it. But he was always reluctant to do anything without her by his side, and she was unwilling to leave Earth and her friends.

"I'm glad you're ready to be on your own, Azazel," Eliot said, "but that doesn't mean you can't come visit us still." He was shocked to be saying it, but he really had come to think of Azazel as sort of a son. 

"Maybe," Azazel said. "But I have a tendency to lose track of time. And your time will always be so short. In case we never meet again, I want to thank you both for helping to fix me. And I wanted to give you this."

Suddenly, a crib appeared in the corner. Eliot recognized it as the one they'd used for Teddy when he was very young. "Wait," he said, standing. "What . . .?" He walked over to the crib in a sort of daze and looked in. He didn't know how, but he had no doubts this was Teddy. "Quentin!" he shouted excitedly.

The baby stirred and started to cry. Eliot picked him up immediately and started bouncing with him in the way Teddy had always preferred. Quentin came to stand next to him and look at the baby. "Is it . . .?"

"I wanted to give you each a gift, so I looked into your minds for the thing you most wanted. It seemed you wanted the same thing, so I made it for you," Azazel said simply. 

Eliot looked at Quentin, who was staring at the baby in Eliot's arms with a sense of wonder. "Q? Are we really doing this?"

Quentin looked at Eliot. "I wasn't really planning on becoming a father again tonight, but I always thought: someday. I told you before, I would do it all again. And now, we can." He hugged him gently, careful not to squish the baby. "This time with all of our friends, too."

Quentin reached to take the baby from Eliot, who was still standing in shock. "Wait, you do want to, don't you?" Quentin asked him, smile falling off his face. He started to spiral. What if he'd just been projecting? What if Eliot didn't really want this at all, but Quentin just wanted it so much that he assumed? What if . . .

Eliot cupped Quentin's face with both hands and kissed him. "Can we use disposable diapers this time? And wipes? Oh! We need formula. I'll make up a list and we'll get Penny to bring some stuff over."

Quentin smiled. He couldn't believe his luck. He turned to thank Azazel, but he was gone. He followed Eliot to the desk and started adding ideas to the list. They were going to be so happy. At least until Teddy became a teenager. Those years had not been fun the first time.

But, that would be a story for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Thanks especially to those of you who read a WIP and commented along the way. Your kudos and questions kept me going when I got stuck.


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